




I 




0 


I 


» 




• / . 





»- 


I . 




I 



«• 


I, 





I 


¥ 


\ 






if- 

^ k .. 

.1 


X 

- 




. < •> 


'0 

. .1 

• 

.m 

* 

'*7 7 

• 

^ ‘ ^ 

• 

> ^ 

/ . . 

% 

• • 

. « 


■ " ( 


r 



<. 

f 

» H' 



•» 


mhf^' 

• (• 


r. S 




V ’ 


'^i 


I * 


> . 


: i;" 


y 





•I - v*** ^ 



m - 




'•s T.- 

-;r.y?- • »• 


t^ 


> 

. • < 


Arimi-^ ' J 


■’u; ./ 

. *! ' ■*> .. . /•/ ' 

-'. ' --tV-r ’.• 



. i■W'*»^■ v-'a®’ 

•“i ‘ ^ 

,. •.- T. 


■;.- • i-; 

■ ' ■ ■ ■ 

' j ■' .. , i 


ft'T *:■ 






\ -V - '^'•- - 

■ . V ‘. A 
, .vV • .;^-''.J- 


V,-' • 

Sf» ■ - 

i 



I /, ..w ' ^ ^ • 

‘ . J ‘ I •# • ^1 ^4 -f .r ^• 



- 




r:.. 




r .•r 


4 - 


* * * • 
*• . / ^ 

• '.i (' 


' o 



XA 




A 


v 

« 


t . 


<, 


•/ 

I 




. / V- 

■^ 4 .!’ V 


/•. 


' AL .^^T r \ ^ "'v 


.• » 

. u 

» 


. K 






V 




King ©tin grprlB IjIb brlourd frltnbB of tljr rauinr.” (p. 20.) 



King Otto’s Crown 


Translated from the German 

of Richard Roth 


By 

MARY E. IRELAND 

% 



St. Louis, Mo. 

CONCORDIA PUBLISHING HOUSE 

1917 



I 


mn 

DEC 7 WW 


CONTENTS 


CIIAl’TEK PAGE 

I. A Glimpse into tlie Past 5 

11. A Visit to King Otto 8 

III. Father and Sons on Their Short Journey 15 

IV. A Pleasant Surprise : 19 

V. Treason against the King 28 

VI. Good Friends 3(5 

VI 1. A Future Queen 40 

VI 11. A Change of Homes 54 

IX. A Family Council ' 59 

X. On Lake Garda 00 

XL Garda Castle 74 

XI 1. The Haunted Tower 82 

XIII. The Besieged Castle 94 

XIV. Rebellion against King Otto 105 

XV. The Hungarians Again 112 

XVI . The Battle of Augsburg 123 

XVI 1. After Many Days 129 



^ 7 .. : '.- ; '/'v' /■-' ' ■ ism 



'V « 

ft I 




■-I ■• 


> ' 


^‘IS 


♦ •/ 

\ 


', / 


... *, 



/ 






* ' ' i * 

*. ’f‘ •'f^ 


u 

1 ■ . U •.' V '.V I'v/ . '•■' * A* ' V •. • • <. , 

fe '.'.. -!^ 7 v 7 . •■» -■ 




0 \ 


/ M* 




ir\,v 


* ' O, 


: :'lj 


‘ . •■■■IE , vV--' • ■■ 7 ',' " ■ ■ •, 

^ . ■:w"s 7 ;.vv'. ^ 

';? ■>! i-'. ■. V .', -.V , ' ■■ ./■ . j. • '; , . 



1^1 .* 


I 




« » 

f 


1 7 - :■ ■' 


> *, •• 


-■r.-v r^v, •..,,.« •■• ' ...v -W • '• '■ ■ •■: 


' ,V 


:• tr.^ 




' -rf 




'l;>v.r.. : 

■H 


f S 


" % '• ‘tAil r ■■ '■'* ■’•''' *■ ' ' IJ '** 


r. yv' 


^4 v’ 

,r.’ 

r/*’V 


■ 7 .' ^ ■ r. ■* .; 

.■.* V: .., ..-.'V ’ CTIW I ' i , , -7 ..■•*• 


rr^'^. rv rT .'I ■■, 


' ■ . V 





•» I 

# .Si 


A 5 . 


'*•' i r 'V*' 

. > . ■> 

V'.. ;' ■ •' ■ ■■ 


-'"■'(li 



» 

V 


K. 


■ • ■ ' ■ H'^k^ y Mb ‘.I ■ ‘ 

\ ' V' •/* ?> j/aVj -- w . 

^ '■ A ;y r? 


"•"A ’■ '. 


IVi.' 


•V' « 


'W •■"■■■• 



►J' 





- i 


. ,A . . 


■A .m 

,!A' ^ .ti 51 'A 



m, '■m% Md‘-M 

^ j ^ * -rf - i * .• ' 1 ‘Y \ ■ S A i.*'' •■ . 

AyA;- A'’ AAr' r-'W- 

’ ' ■ ‘'TtyA.if :' T; '.-V ; 'A'.' r'"< '■ '’’''H? 

^ ■ /. ^ '.'7, 


^ t 


w ■ 




\ :s '> •'•i'" '* ■■ -;V'. ' '•••' 'n 

• ' ‘‘If. • ’ • ' 


,' 4 , 




■V 


' « f 



/ JShV ■ ^ -rv'- A'’ 

: -7 ' 


r*--.' ^ ^ '■ '■- ■'. ••■ > 7 ;^ 7 :.., ,' •■ 

V . ' •• . 4 “ **7* /!' >‘rk ' .' 

^ .7;1A 


W* 1 


y 


•. • ’v y, 

*• • *. A' •• ‘ 


■ s»' 'T- ■> 






. ^-• ^ • . 


1 • 1 



I — ' 


• - 


,4| 


i 


V 

\ • • 


iW^V 


. r 4 

> \ 

V ». 


■ ■ • 


♦f 




. % > 


. 4 


. 4 V< «. 




• 1 ■; 




I • \J t : * 'A ; >Ky:‘ x'A' 


?> 


‘-i 


A •As,! '* ‘ /i. ' 'vV 
/V p 


. i 


I - IW ■ 4 i-* ' ■ » . V* *.' . /_* 

-^■> 5 .: 'A'., ^ y^./ ' -■ -■ 





4 t 


^ : 




fife' 

• •. ^4**. *CT ' ♦ 4 -Orini 


1 1 




CHAPTER I. 

A Glimpse into the Past. 

Many years ago, in the reign of Henry I of Germany, 
Hengist and Keringer, brothers of eleven and twelve years, 
were playing about a small lake at the foot of the Harz 
Mountains in Saxony. 

It was a bright afternoon in early winter, and the snowy 
peaks of the mountains gleamed in the sun-light, their 
shadows and those of the forest trees making miniature 
copies of themselves upon the surface of the ice-bound lake. 

Beautiful was this lake in summer, its ripples sparkling 
in the sunbeams, and wild flowers blooming luxuriantly 
upon its banks, but equally appreciated by the boys in winter. 

Healthy, bright, handsome boys they were, straight as 
pine-trees on the mountainside, with ruddy cheeks, bright 
blue eyes, and blond hair, which fell in ringlets nearly to 
their waists from under their bearskin caps, that being the 
custom in those early times. 

“Keringer!” called Hengist, “father warned us to be 
careful and not go too near that part of the lake where the 
warm stream runs, for the ice is thin and the water deep.” 

“I will be careful,” replied the boy, but a moment later 
the ice cracked, and he dropped into the water, but fortunately 
succeeded in throwing his arms out over the ice, which kept 
him from going under. The ice broke under the weight of 
his arms, he pushed on to a flrmer place ; again the ice broke, 
and he was compelled to move along. 

“Do not be frightened brother,” called Hengist, “I will 
shout for help until some one comes”; and this he did at the 
top of his clear voice. But there was no response ; only the 
melancholy “hiah! hiah!” of an eagle circling overhead, 
breaking the silence of the secluded place. 


It was indeed an unlikely spot to get assistance; there 
was a narrow, winding, rough road down the valley, but it 
was seldom that any one passed that way during the winter; 
and although the tower and battlements of the ancient castle 
where they lived were plainly in view, it was scarcely possible 
for a boy^s voice to reach any one there. 

Keringer’s body was chilled and his arms lamed by the 
strain upon them, and he was almost d’espairing of rescue; 
but liengist continued his call for help, turning his head 
in all directions, hoping some one would hear, when a strong 
manly voice responded, and a hunter forced his way through 
the undergrowth of the forest. 

He was tall and of distinguished and commanding pres- 
ence, and was in full hunting costume. His cap was of 
costly otter-skin, his hunting-jacket of valuable fur; slung 
over his shoulder was a cross-bow and a quiver of arrows, 
a large, bright hunting-knife was in his belt, and in his right 
hand was a spear. 

He saw at a glance the danger, the need, and the remedy, 
and called in a cheery voice: 

“Hold on a moment longer, my boy, and you will soon 
be on safe ground.” 

He bent down a stout limb of a sapling, and with his 
hunting-knife cut it on each side; then with a twist of his 
strong hand he broke it off, trimming off the branches 
as he hurried to the lake. 

“Now, my boy, this strong pole will save you,” he said 
as he pushed it toward him ; “place it across the hole in the 
ice, grasp it with both hands, and push it along toward the 
shore. If the ice breaks, it won’t matter ; the pole will keep 
you from sinking. Push it along until the ice will not break, 
then it will be strong enough to bear your weight; climb 
out, and with God’s help you will be safe on shore.” 

Keringer obeyed, and a moment later a strong hand drew 
him to a place beside him. 

“Now run home as quickly as you can to change your 
wet clothing so you won’t take cold. But first tell me your 
names, and where you live.” 


— 7 ^ 


“Hengist and Keringer, and our home is Castle Eber- 
stein,” said Hengist, pointing to it; “and we thank you 
for saving Keringer,” he added. 

“Now good-by, and I hope we will meet again. I often 
hunt in this forest!” The young man now turned to go. 

“Will you please tell us your name?” asked Hengist, and 
both boys listened eagerly for the reply. 

“Oh, that will be a fine conundrum for you to guess by 
the time we meet again,” he replied with a merry nod. 
“Good-by! good-by!” and he disappeared amid the bushes 
of the forest. 

“Fine, handsome, well-bred boys!” he said to himself as 
he hurried to join his fellow-huntsmen; “it would have been 
a sad affair had one been drowned. Thank God that I heard 
the call before he sank under the ice !” 

This friend in need was Prince Otto, son of King Henry I 
of Saxony, who was the first emperor to be accepted by the 
whole body of German people, and was looked upon as the 
founder of the German Empire. 

King Henry, his queen, Matilda, and his court were at 
his castle at Quedlinburg, in Saxony, at that time, which 
was but a few miles from the lake and the great forest. 

In those days the king had no fixed homes, but marched 
through the empire from one palace or castle to another, 
and wherever he happened to be, he must be the judge of 
all doubtful or contested points among his subjects. 

Immense forests — also the property of the reigning 
monarch — covered at that time a great part of the land, 
and in them roamed the wolf, the bear, the bison, the elk, 
and wild boars, which furnished amusement and food for 
huntsmen. 

It was in tracking one of these animals that Prince Otto 
had heard the call for help, and saved a human life; and 
feeling happy over it, he rejoined his companions, while the 
boys ran down the valley to Castle Eberstein. 


— 8 — 


CHAPTEK IL 

A Visit to King Otto. 

Four years passed away. It was now May, and Hengist 
and Keringer had grown almost to man's height. They were 
in their hunting costume, and were again by the lake in the 
valley, now in its summer beauty. • 

The mountain streams were foaming and gurgling on 
the way to the ravines below, the birds in the forest were 
singing and chirping as they darted about, and a nest of 
young eagles on a mountain height clamored as if having 
a craving for food, but nothing to satisfy it. 

A wild cat sprang from one high point to another in 
search of prey, not fearing the bows and arrows of the boys 
in the valley, who were glancing up at it while wending their 
way through bushes, briars, and stumps, not heeding hin- 
drances. 

wonder why father does not come," said Keringer 
when they reached the entrance of a ravine; “he said he 
would meet us here, where last evening we saw the track 
of a bear, and he never has failed us." 

The place had indeed a wild aspect; rocks towered high 
above them, and cast dark shadows upon the winding path 
between. 

They had been there but a few minutes, when they heard 
snarling and scuffling, the sound of conflict and calls for help. 

“It is the bear!" exclaimed Hengist. “Some one has 
wounded it and is now in danger." 

With their hunting-knives in hand they ran up the ravine 
and found a hunter on his back upon the ground, and the paw 
of a huge bear upon his breast, which prevented him from 
using his hunting-knife, and he was at the mercy of the in- 
furiated beast. 

He had speared it, but not in a vital part; it had rushed 
upon him and thrust him to the ground. 

The boys heard the call and ran to his assistance just 
as the animal had sunk his teeth in the shoulder of the 
prostrate man; a moment more of time would have been 


too late to save him, but that moment was used by the boys 
in plunging their hunting-knives into the heart of the bear. 
He relaxed his hold, rolled over and the outstretched hands 
•of his deliverers helped the hunter to his feet. 

“You came at the right time,” he said gratefully; 
■‘^another moment and it w’ould have been too late. I thank 
God, who sent you as His instruments to save me from a ter- 
rible death.” 

“We must look at your wounded shoulder,” said Hengist; 
■^‘see, it is bleeding.” 

“My thick hunting-jacket has kept me from suffering 
much injury, I think.” When the boys removed it, they 
found two cuts made by the teeth, but not so deep and 
dangerous as they had feared. 

“I came off well,” remarked the hunter; “had' it been 
my throat, I could not have lived. You boys have saved 
my life, and from my heart I thank you.” 

“You saved my life,” said Keringer; “now I rejoice that 
I have aided in saving yours.” 

“I saved your life? When and where?” and he looked 
inquiringly at them. “Why, I do not know you, have never 
seen you until now.” 

“But we know you; do you not remember Hengist and 
Keringer? You saved the life of Keringer when he broke 
through the ice on the lake.. He would have been drowned 
had you not pushed a strong pole to him and told him how 
to use it,” said Hengist cheerily. 

“Can it be possible? I would not have supposed that 
you could have grown to nearly men^s size in those four years. 
I certainly did not remember you.” 

“It is no wonder that you did not know us ; you scarcely 
gave us time to thank you,” laughed Keringer. 

“Hengist and Keringer, are you there?” called a strong 
voice at the mouth of the ravine. 

“Yes, father, we are here” ; and in response to the hunter’s 
questioning glance, they told him that their father had come 
out with them the evening before to hunt the bear of which 
they had seen tracks. 


“O boys, the recklessness of coining into the ravine in 
search of the bear!” rebuked their father the moment he 
caught sight of them. 

“But we have him, father,” they called joyously. 

They were soon joined by a large, strong-looking man. 
but lame, and with lines of care upon his fine face. 

“Oh, now I see,” he continued, turning to the hunter,, 
“you have killed him, and the boys came to rejoice with you.” 

“No, your sons killed him, and I have to thank them 
for my being alive at this moment. I am with a party of 
huntsmen, and we saw traces of a bear and parted to go in 
different directions to search for him. I saw him enter this 
ravine, and threw the spear which wounded him; he turned, 
threw me down, and planted his huge foot upon my breast, 
and I could not move to reach for my knife. I would have 
been killed had not your sons come at the proper moment 
to stab him and save me; I owe my life to them.” 

“They merely did their duty,” replied the father, yet 
with a look of pride he gazed upon his handsome sons, who 
had saved a life. 

“I think you are a stranger in this region,” he said,, 
turning to the hunter, “I never saw you in this forest, I am 
quite sure.” 

“It has only happened that we have never met, for I fre- 
quently hunt in this forest.” 

“This is the kind huntsman that saved me from drowning, 
father, the time I broke through the ice,” explained Keringer.. 

“Oh, is it possible that at last I see him whom I have 
long wished to see and thank for his deed of great kindness 
to me and mine. These boys are the tie that binds me to 
life; I have had many trials, and they are my stay and 
comfort. My name is Gerhard von Stein, and I have been 
a soldier.” 

“I can well believe you were a soldier, and a brave one. 
I will walk along with you on your way to your home, and 
you can tell me what is agreeable to you to tell, and withhold 
what you prefer to keep to yourself.” 

“There is nothing to keep back, and I will tell all there 


11 


is to tell. Boys,” he continued, turning to them, “cover the 
bear with pine branches, and to-morrow we will bring tools 
and take off his skin, his hind legs, and his paws.” Saying 
this, he and the stranger took their way down the path 
through the valley. 

“In the year 924,” the father of the boys said to the 
stranger as they slowdy walked along toward Eberstein Castle, 
“a wild horde of Hungarians broke into our part of Saxony 
like an overwhelming flood, and King Henry gathered as 
quickly as possible an army to combat them. I am a soldier 
of a long line of knights, to which my wounds and scars 
bear witness, and I would have laid down my life for King 
Henry. A small castle on the river Unstrut was my ancestral 
home; there with my beloved wife and bright, beautiful 
little boy, Arnulf, nearly two years old, we lived so happily 
that to leave it to go to war was a trial. 

“There was no great battle with the Huns, for our army 
was too small in numbers to risk waging war with such an 
overpowering horde; but there were many light skirmishes 
between them and King Henry’s loyal men at the fortress 
of Werla at the foot of the Harz Mountains. 

“During the last one of these skirmishes, an arrow grazed 
my eye, and I lost the sight of it; and a spear wounded my 
knee, which caused lameness. 

“For several weeks I lay at the fortress of Werla, unable 
to join in any action, and in the mean time King Henry 
concluded *a truce, with the Hungarians for nine years’ 
duration. 

“With one of my faithful retainers I set out for my 
castle, rejoicing that after so many weeks of absence I would 
be at my home with my wife and child, and could by my 
presence add to their comfort and happiness. 

“We traveled along hopefully, and my surprise and be- 
wilderment was beyond expression when, from the top of 
a hill, I saw no sign of my home; the Hungarians had been 
there, and my castle was a heap of ruined walls and ashes. 

“I would have fallen from my horse had not my faithful 


— 12 — 


servant prevented it, and we stayed at the place which had 
been my home. 

“One attendant had remained there, in case I returned, 
to tell me that my wife had come here to Eberstein Castle, 
which was the ancestral home of her family, and was occu- 
pied by her brother, the last one left of her father’s family 
and he in feeble health, but who gave her a hearty welcome. 

“Her heart was broken over the loss of pur little Arnulf 
whom the Hungarians had stolen; and in my own deep grief 
for the loss of our boy I strove to comfort her. 

“We would have been far happier to know that he was 
lying in his little grave, instead of living in the hands of 
that wild, lawdess people; but we bore our trouble as best 
we could. 

“My poor brother-in-law was our comfort while he lived, 
but he passed away the next year, and later God sent us these 
two dear sons. When Keringer was five years old, my wife 
passed away; and we have lived at the old Castle Eberstein 
with our faithful retainers, trying to bear the loss of wife 
and mother as is our duty and in obedience to God’s will.” 

“It has indeed been a sore trial to you,” remarked the 
hunter, “but, Gerhard von Stein, did you never apply to 
King Henry for reimbursement for the loss of your property 
and the injury to you caused by wounds?” 

“I never thought of doing anything of the kind. We 
should only think of the honor and freedom which our beloved 
Germany enjoys. That is the offering which is required and 
expected of all the sons of the fatherland. It would have 
been impossible for our late noble king to pay all his soldiers 
who lost property, and for injuries received in fighting for 
our country’s honor.” 

The shades of evening were drawing on, the song of birds 
in the forest had nearly ceased, and the hunter, taking a little 
silver horn held by a cord about his neck, placed it to his 
lips and gave a clear call that echoed through the forest. 

“My hunting companions will now join me,” he said, as 
he shook the hands of his companions. “We have come to the 
parting of the ways, but I hope we will meet again ; till then 


farewell.” Stepping lightly over the trunk of a fallen tree, 
he disappeared in the forest. 

father, you forgot to ask his name,” exclaimed Hengist. 

“Yes, it was in my mind several times, and I don’t see 
why I could not ask it. Kind and agreeable as was his 
manner, there was something in it that restrained me.” 

“Something majestic,” suggested Keringer. 

“That is exactly the word,” said his father, “majestic”; 
and the three passed on to the ancient fortress. 

One morning, several days later, a horseman of knightly 
appearance passed through the courtyard gate of Castle 
Eberstein. 

A helmet graced his head, a chained armor protected his 
body, a sword in its scabbard was at his side, a poniard in 
his girdle, and over his shoulder hung a shield. 

The stamping of his horse brought Hengist and Keringer 
quickly to see the visitor, and speeding to tell a servant to 
attend to the horse, they sped to their father. 

Gerhard was pointing arrows, but came quickly to wel- 
come the unknown guest. 

“My name is Kabald, and I am chamberlain of His 
Majesty King Otto,” explained the visitor in a courtly 
manner, as he took the seat that Gerhard von Stein gave him. 

Hengist took off the helmet, and Keringer brought a foot- 
stool ; then the two sons took a seat beside the father to learn 
the occasion of the visit. 

“I am sent by King Otto to you, Gerhard von Stein, and 
to your sons Hengist and Keringer, to tell you that it has 
come to his knowledge that your good and brave sons have 
saved a hunter in the forest from the teeth and claws of 
a bear, thus keeping him from losing his life. 

“Also it has come to the knowledge of King Otto that 
you, Gerhard von Stein, have done the fatherland great 
service, and with much loss to you. My royal master, in 
view of these services, sends his personal thanks to you, and 
the aim of my visit is to invite all three of you to ^ come to 
his castle at Quedlinburg, where he is staying at present, 
and where he would like to meet you, if you have no objection 


_ 14 — 


to the long ride. I have a friend on the way whom I would 
like to visit for a half hour, but it will not hinder you on 
your journey, for I have the swiftest horse in the stables 
of the king’s marshall, and can easily catch up with you 
before you reach Quedlinburg. What is your answer, Ger- 
hard von Stein?” 

“What the king commands, is the duty of myself and my 
sons to obey. But first your horse must have oats, and you 
some refreshment, which I offer freely, though I must add 
that it will he very plain.” 

Keringer ran out to give both orders, and in a little while 
a meal was upon the table for four, simple indeed, black 
bread, stewed wild plums, and roast bear-meat. The guest 
expressed himself as being well satisfied with the meal, and 
especially was he pleased to know that the meat was from the 
hind leg of the bear which the boys had killed in thp forest, 
thus saving the hunter from the teeth and claws of the 
infuriated animal, v 

An hour later the four rode out the courtyard and over 
the drawbridge on their way to visit King Otto. 

The horses of the father and sons were old, and their 
progress was not to be compared with the swift movement of 
the chamberlain’s; and when he branched off to visit his 
friend, they saw that it would be no trouble for him to catch 
up with them again should his call extend over the half hour. 

“I well remember my last visit to Quedlinburg,” re- 
marked the father as they traveled along side by side; “it 
was just eighteen years ago. King Henry knew that a great 
injustice had been done me, and he gave me an audience 
without delay. 

“Queen Matilda was present, and also their little son 
Otto, now; our king; he has worn the crown since his father’s 
death in 936, and in the three years he has ruled he has won 
the love of his subjects; for, like his father and mother, he 
is sincere and good. I have never seen him since he was 
a child, for there was nothing to call me to Quedlinburg 
Avhen the king and his court paid a visit there.” 

“Father, it would be pleasant to hear you tell of the 


— 15 — 


king's Henry and Otto; we so love to hear of people who 
have ruled over our beloved fatherland.” 

To Gerhard- von Stein nothing was more agreeable than 
to converse with his sons, and to listen to their opinions, 
freely expressed to one who had always been as an elder 
brother in their secluded life at the ancient fortress, and 
after a moment’s reflection as to the place to begin, he pro- 
ceeded to tell them how the line was changed from the Carlo- 
vingian dynasty to the imperial House of Saxony. 


CHAPTEK III. 

' Father and Sons on Their Short Journey. 

‘‘It will not be necessary, my sons, to go farther back in 
German history for our short journey to Quedlinburg, than 
to King Conrad I, who, when about to pass from earth, called 
his brother Eberhard, who, as heir to the German throne, 
would have worn the crown of the kingdom of Germany. 

“Dear brother,” said Conrad feebly, “I realize that I must 
soon leave the world, and I long for the best welfare of the 
fatherland. This is a mighty kingdom; we have cities and 
waterways, we have a population that can afford great armies 
in the field, and everything else that belongs to a kingly 
country ; but in real ability, which brings success, we are 
lacking. These advantages and abilities to procure success 
are possessed in a high degree by Henry, Duke of Saxony, 
once our enemy and antagonist. Upon this great man, Duke 
Henry of Saxony, rests the prosperity of the German king- 
dom ; therefore in these, the last hours of my life upon earth, 
I ask you to grant my heartfelt wish, and demand that Henry 
be my successor. Dear brother, I implore you to renounce 
your right and claim to the throne for the sake of the well- 
being of the kingdom. When my eyes are closed in death, 
take to him the tokens of kingship and royal dignity, the 
crown and the crown jewels, bring the Saxon duke here, and 
make him your friend. Tell him that I chose him as my 
successor, and the last wish of a dying man should be 
fulfilled.” 


— 16 — 


^^And did Eberhard do this?’^ asked both boys eagerly. 

“He did, and you can well understand, my dear sons, 
that to Eberhard these words caused deep disappointment and 
real grief. But truly great he proved to be; he made the 
sacrifice for the sake of his brother and his beloved country, 
and Henry of Saxony became King of Germany. 

“ ‘I know well,’ said Eberhard, ‘that a king’s crown is^ 
a heavy burden, yet I will give the German prince my 
allegiance, and what strength I possess to the kingdom.’ 
And he kept his word. 

“King Henry I was of noble appearance. I would give 
much to have had you see him; tall and stately, with broad 
shoulders and straight limbs and handsome features. Cour- 
age and determination shone in his fine, clear eyes. Elastic 
in his movements, splendid of form, he was a king from 
the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. 

“Yet, in spite of all these endowments, only the Saxons 
and the Franconians acknowledged him as their king. The 
Swabians, Bavarians, and the Lothringians refused to accept 
him. But there came punishment for their injustice, for 
against Burchard, the Swabian duke, Henry brought an 
army unexpectedly, and in a short battle overthrew him, and 
from that time he was a faithful vassal of King Henry. 

“Then King Henry brought an army against Arnulf of 
Bavaria; and a terrible battle was fought. The king was 
deeply distressed at witnessing the terrible fight between 
German brothers, and he sent for Arnulf to have a con- 
versation with him. 

“ ‘Why did you strive against the will of God ?’ he asked. 
‘Who gave me the crown, if it was not God? It was He who 
put it into the heart of the late king and the bishop who 
chose me for your king. Flad God put you upon the throne, 
no one would have been more willing to give you allegiance 
than I ; it was only because God willed it that I took up the 
burden of the crown. How will you answer to God for this 
shedding of innocent blood? How will you answer to your 
conscience for your jealous, envious insubordination, causing 
brave German soldiers to give up their lives, brother fighting 


— 17 — 


against brother, and leaving the frontiers of the kingdom 
unprotected against outside enemies?’ 

^^Arnulf recognized the truth of this, and in real re- 
pentance and submission he became faithful in his allegiance 
to the noble king. 

“Henry had won the battle by force of arms, but a greater 
one by discreet admonition and wise handling of a difficult 
subject. 

“The Lothringians were the next to be taken in hand, and 
I had part in all the battles against them. Then King Henry 
had to turn his attention to outside enemies, of whom the 
most dangerous were the Hungarians, a wild, plundering 
horde of horsemen. 

“They knew the kingdom’s weakness after their fierce 
battles among themselves, and believed that an invasion 
would not meet with much resistance, and like an impetuous 
flood they broke over the borders, filling the hearts of the 
people with terror and anxiety. 

, “They were inherited enemies of the fatherland, and were 
indeed to be feared for their wonderful skill in using their 
swords, lances, spears, and bows and arrows. Standing on 
the backs of their horses, or leaning over their sides, the 
weapons of these wild people seldom missed their mark. 

“Their horses were small and marvels of endurance; and 
with deafening cries these wild horsemen made an onslaught, 
and if not having the success they wished, they took apparent 
flight; the attacked would follow, whereupon they would 
turn, and use their weapons with terrible havoc, sparing no 
one, not even women and children. Old men were killed 
or taken prisoners, and homes were robbed of everything 
that could be carried away. 

“In one short battle with them I was wounded in the 
knee. I was in the fortress of Werla, when, one day, our 
soldiers came jubilantly in, bringing as a prisoner a young 
Hungarian prince. 

“The enemy offered a high price for his ransom, but 
Henry made his demand, which was a nine years’ cessation 
of hostilities; and he would accept nothing else as ransom 

King Otto’s Crown. 2 


18 — 


for the Hungarian prince. It was accepted by them, and for 
nine years our kingdom was secure from their depredations. 

“At that time our country had very few cities and 
fortresses. Only on the shores of the Rhine and the Danube, 
and beyond these rivers, where the Romans had ruled, could 
these be found, and most of them were in ruins. 

“The people, as a rule, lived in small dwellings, and as 
there were but few villages, the country stood open to the 
enemy, for the inhabitants were so scattered that they could 
not unite to protect it. 

“Henry did much to improve this state of things ; he en- 
couraged his subjects to form villages and strongholds, that 
they might have gathering-places for their own protection. 

“There was also a change as to defense. In all the battles 
with the Hungarians, the Germans were in the minority; 
and it became King Henry’s care to strengthen his army. 
Moreover, the Hungarians were on horseback, while the 
Germans were on foot and heavily burdened with their 
weapons, and he resolved to better this during the nine 
years; and he succeeded. 

“In the mean time, the time of truce was nearly out, and 
that the Hungarians would not wait long was known to every 
German, and the king called them together in order to come 
to an understanding as to what was the best plan to take 
in case of an attack. 

“ ‘As you all know,’ he said to the throng of gathered 
soldiers, ^in contrast to our former troubles and disorder in 
our beloved land, we have for nearly nine years been free 
from the burdens of inward feuds and open war. But against 
the Hungarians we must soon be at all times prepared; for 
very soon I must free them from their oath, and again the 
Church of God and His servants will be robbed and plun- 
dered, and nothing will be left them but, perhaps, their lives. 
Weigh this matter well in your minds, and decide upon the 
best course to be taken’; and he waited for their answer. 
All agreed that the hereditary enemy should be quelled. 

“ ^Will you take oath that you will stand by me though it 
may cost your lives ?’ With uplifted hand each took the oath. 


— 19 — 


“O boys,” continued Gerhard, went through my heart 
that I, a poor crippled man, could not take part against the 
foul enemy of the fatherland. My sword must rust in its 
scabbard, while my fellow-soldiers were doing their duty. 
Children, it was a trial hard to bear. 

“As soon as the nine years were past, messengers were 
sent by the Hungarians requesting tribute-money. To their 
astonishment and anger they had to return with empty hands. 
A few weeks after, they came like an overwhelming swarm 
of grasshoppers over Thuringia and Saxony. 

“King Henry hurriedly gathered a large army of horse- 
men and gave summons to battle. Fortunately the great 
army of the Hungarians could not find sufficient food in 
Thuringia, and they agreed that a part of the army should 
remain there, and another part go westward; and there the 
King and his company met them and nearly exterminated 
them. Then he and his army battled with the other part. 
He told his soldiers to look to God for assistance, assuring 
them that the Almighty would be with them in their en- 
deavors to save their homes and their country from de- 
struction. 

“The hearts of his soldiers swelled with courage and hope. 
Their beloved king was with them, now in one part of the 
field, now in another, and always with his banner bearing 
the emblem of the archangel Gabriel. 

“The Hungarians were bewildered at seeing the difference 
between this warfare and that of nine years before. They 
took to flight, and their camp and its possessions, and their 
prisoners fell into the hands of King Henry.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A Pleasant Surprise. 

Gerhard von Stein had finished his account of King 
Henry I and his troubles with the Hungarians, when horses^ 
hoofs were heard coming at a rapid pace, and the chamberlain 
joined them just as the turrets and battlements of Quedlin- 
burg Castle came into view. 


— 20 — 


They rode in company over the drawbridge, and entered 
the great courtyard. The statue of a Saxon warrior guarded 
the entrance with sword in scabbard, spear in hand, a shield 
held by a band over the shoulder, betokening, as it were, that 
it were impossible for any except invited guests to enter there. 

But Gerhard von Stein and his sons were not only invited 
guests, but were brought there by the chamberlain of 
King Otto. 

Servants came to take charge of the horses, and Kabald 
conducted the guests through the grand entrance into a large 
apartment, evidently the favorite room of a hunter. 

“Here you will wait,” he said, “to be received by our 
gracious King Otto. I will tell him that you are here,” 
and he left the apartment. 

“I was received by King Henry in this room,” remarked 
the father; and a look of sorrow shadowed his face at the 
remembrance of one who had passed from earth four years 
before, in the year 936; and the places that knew him upon 
earth would know him no more. 

Upon the wainscoted walls were great antlers of deer and 
elks, horns of the chamois, and tusks of wild boars and bisons, 
as well as hunting-weapons of all kinds, each and all full 
of interest to the boys. 

They were still gazing at them when a man’s footsteps 
were heard in the corridor. The door opened and the hunter 
they had met in the ravine stood before them, wearing the 
hunting-garb he had worn the day they killed the bear and 
saved his life; and they supposed he had come to announce 
the king. 

“King Otto greets his beloved friends of the ravine,” 
he said as with a friendly smile he grasped their hands and 
shook them cordially. 

The father bowed respectfully, and the boys followed his 
example, though bewildered by the surprise, feeling as though 
it were all a dream. 

That they had saved the life of the ruler of the great 
German Empire seemed too wonderful to be true. 

“Yes, boys, I am the hunter whose life you saved from 


— 21 — 


the claws and teeth of the bear, and through God’s providence 
I owe my being /yet upon the earth to you. 

“And you, Gerhard von Stein, through your unpremedi- • 
tated history of your experiences and losses caused by the war, 
gave such heartfelt expression to the Ipve you bore my dear 
father and our beloved country that I wish to make some 
recompense to you and your boys for what you have done 
for me and mine. 

“On the Lippe River there is a property belonging to me 
called Hartrun. It has a large, substantial castle, many acres 
of cultivated land, plenty of fruit, a great stretch of wood- 
land, or forest, in which are deer and other wild animals 
for food and for sport in hunting. This property I give to 
you and your sons for all times, and the deed for it is 
ready for you.” 

With these words he took from a niche in the wall an 
inlaid casket, unlocked it, and took from it a roll of parch- 
ment which he placed in the hand of Gerhard. 

“I cannot express my gratitude and happiness in receiving 
this gift,” said his guest, his lips trembling with emotion; 
“it is a royal gift, worthy the great heart of the giver.” 

“There is another fine property near Hartrun, which 
belongs to my brother, Duke Henry of Bavaria; it is called 
Castle Beleke, and is occupied only by the steward Ruppert 
and his son Wido; the boy is about the age of your sons, is 
a good, sensible boy, and will be excellent company for them. 
The two places are not far apart, and the two forests join.” 

“Thank you again and again,” said Gerhard ; “it is indeed 
a blessing to have our own home and land.” 

“It is to you that thanks are due and to your sons; had 
it not been for them, I would not be here to make the gift. 
And now my chamberlain will take you to have some refresh- 
ments after your ride.” 

It was a luxurious meal to which Kabald conducted them, 
and was heartily enjoyed. Then the chamberlain took them 
to the stables, where the coachman and other servitors awaited 
them, and they were shown three fine horses, two with black, 
glossy coats and one an equally glossy chestnut. 


22 — 


“What splendid horses!” exclaimed the boys in a breath. 

“Are you really pleased with them?” smiled the cham- 
berlain. 

“Who could help being pleased; it must be a joy to pet 
this lovely one” ; and he patted its soft mane. 

“That joy can be yours; for the two belong to you boys 
to choose for yourselves between them, and the chestnut is 
for your father.” 

It, too, was a fine animal, but not so fieet as the blacks. 
All, however, were gentle and well trained. ♦ 

“If you intend to go soon to Hartrun, the three horses 
will be taken there by order of the king,” continued the 
chamberlain; “if not, they will be taken to the fortress. It 
rests entirely with you.” 

“It will better prove our keen appreciation of his majesty’s 
gifts for us to go to Hartrun as quickly as possible,” replied 
Gerhard; and thanking the chamberlain for his care and 
attention, the three happy recipients of the valuable gifts 
set out for the old fortress. 

The gift of Hartrun was strong evidence of the generosity 
of the king as well as his gratitude, and, in compliment to the 
donor, Gerhard and his sons lost no time in exchanging their 
home in the dilapidated fortress for the comparatively new 
and substantial Hartrun Castle. 

There was now no care in the heart of the father for the 
future of his sons; and the old soldier’s heart thrilled at 
the thought that there was not only a settled home, but life 
would be full of interest in that spot. They now had a forest 
where they could roam at will as in the former home, so lost 
nothing in that respect, and gained in many others. 

At one time there was no communication between Hartrun 
and Beleke Castles, for the owners. King Otto and his brother 
Henry, Duke of Bavaria, were enemies; but the wall which 
separated the forests that there might be no communication 
and no evidence of friendship between them, was still there, 
although peace had been apparently established between them. 

The new owners of Hartrun had been there but a short 
time, when, one afternoon, they heard, on the other side of 


— 23 — 


the token of the brother’s enmity, the bellowing of dogs. 
A deer sprang over the wall and fell near the spot where 
Hengist and Keringer were standing. An arrow was in the 
poor animal’s breast, and it did not rise, but lay there panting 
with pain and fright, while the hounds belonging to Hartrun 
bellowed with delight as they sniffed about the fallen deer. 
Presently two hunters' appeared on the other side of the wall. 

One of them was a tall, strong, middle-aged man, with 
gray hair and of soldier-like appearance; the other, a boy 
of about nineteen, with a fine, intelligent cast of countenance, 
both with spears, bows and. arrows, and knives. 

“The deer belongs to the fellow that lives at Hartrun,” 
said the older man with a look of disappointment that it had 
jumped over the wall and he could not claim it. “Wait 
a moment, and I will silence the dogs,” and he took an arrow 
from his quiver and was about to shoot when the young man 
grasped his arm. 

“What have the poor dogs done that you are willing to 
kill them, father?” he said. 

“What is that to you, Wido? Let go of my arm this 
minute!” But the boy would not release his clasp, and at 
that moment Gerhard von Stein, who had heard the bellowing, 
joined his sons. 

“We live at Castle Hartrun,” said Gerhard. “We were 
hunting in the forest and shot at the deer. Was it your 
arrow or ours that struck it?” 

“It does not matter whose arrow struck it, it fell on your 
side. But I believe it is our deer, for it was in hiding for 
three hours where you could not have seen it, and my son 
sent the arrow that wounded it.” 

“I sent my arrow from a distance,” said Keringer, “but 
I think I wounded the deer in the neck.” 

“Is that so? Ho you smart Aleck think so little of my 
skill as a hunter as to believe that I missed my aim? You 
do not know that my arrow will go within a hair’s breadth 
of - the mark.” 

“Ho pot begin a quarrel with our new neighbor, father,” 
said Wido. “We both know that the deer came from the 


— 24 — 


forest, and none of us knows whether it was from the Hartrun 
or the Beleke side. My suggestion would be to share the 
deer with our neighbor.” 

^^Your son speaks wisely and justly,” said Gerhard, ^‘and 
it is a credit to his good heart and kind feelings to strangers. 
If you agree to that. Steward Ruppert, we will be well satis- 
fied; but if you believe that it was not my son’s arrow, but 
yours, that killed it, we will give it up to you without a word 
of objection.” 

see that you are trying by your generosity to shame me. 
But you have reckoned without your host; I will not deny 
that it was in your part of the forest where he was feeding, 
and it was in your part of it where it was hidden ; so the deer 
is yours. But look well and see if there is not an arrow 
wound in one of his hind legs, for I declare by St. Augustine 
that my arrow hit the deer as it jumped over the wall, which 
my gracious Duke Henry had built between the forests. But 
remember this; no one of you will go unpunished if you 
trespass over this wall.” 

“I could bid defiance to your insolence if I thought it 
worth the trouble,” replied von Stein, his face flushing with 
anger. “Your son is far the more sensible of the two, and 
shows by his manner that he does not side with you. He 
knows that the right is on our side. But I do not wish to 
have any strife between us. Our superiors are at peace with 
each other, why should we not be good friends?” 

“Peace indeed!” laughed Ruppert scornfully. “The only 
peace between two rulers is the will of the stronger; the 
other must follow in his footsteps. Where his opponent has 
luck, peace is only on the outside, and the world believes 
that all is well between them.” 

“That is no concern of ours,” replied Gerhard; “and if 
you have a feeling of bitterness in your heart against us, 
that is no reason for us to feel that way toward you. We 
desire to have peace and good will, such as there should be 
between neighbors; but if Hartrun is such a thorn in your 
side, we will make this low wall the boundary line between 
us, and not to cross it will be my care and that of my sons.” 


— 25 — 


Saying this, the new owner of Hartrun turned away, ac- 
companied by Hengist and Keringer, each nodding a farewell 
to Wido. 

“I am sorry that Steward Ruppert harbors such a feeling 
against us,” remarked von Stein as they walked toward their 
home; “his face is not that of an evil-hearted man., He 
seems to be strictly obedient to duty, but he entertains the 
foolish idea that we are enemies.” 

“Wido seems to be friendly toward us,” commented 
Hengist. “I like him, and I would be glad to have him as 
a friend.” 

“He is a fine boy, I am sure,” agreed his father. “He has 
a truthful, clear gaze, pleasant manners, and, I think, is 
truly honorable and just. I would be very glad if you could 
be friends with him; he would be a helpful companion.” 

Just then the two dogs raised their heads and barked 
angrily. 

“What is it. Risk and Rust?” said Keringer. “What 
animal is it you are scenting that does not please you?” 

“It is not an animal, but a person,” said his father. 
“I was told by the steward at Hartrun that it is a peculiarity 
of these dogs that they scent a person that is following in 
one’s tracks.” A little later they heard some footsteps upon 
the dry leaves and branches in the forest. 

“Will you people of Hartrun halt a minute?” called 
a young buoyant voice, and Wido joined them, panting from 
his swift run through the forest. 

“I wish to say that I am sorry that my father spoke as 
he did to you. He is a good, kind man, but he always speaks 
that way to one who is on the king’s side instead of that of 
Duke Henry. Dor this reason, and that alone, he is angry 
with his twin brother, who is keeper of King Otto’s forest 
at Merseburg. To tell you how it all came about would be 
quite a long story.” 

“We would like to hear it, Wido, if you have no objections 
to telling it.” 

“Yes, tell us,” exclaimed his sons eagerly; and Wido was 
pleased to comply. 


— 26 — 


‘‘We are Germans,” he said, “and until the year 933 we 
lived in Hungary where my father was forester and hunter 
for a rich Plungarian wdio had a large estate. There my 
father and mother were happy and contented, and to-day he 
would be glad to return to Hungary. In the year 933, as 
you all know, there was a cessation of hostilities for nine 
years, and as soon as this truce period was at an end, tho 
Hungarians swarmed over the border and attacked the Ger- 
mans. There was a terrible battle at Riade, and the Hun- 
garians were driven out of Germany. In wild haste those 
who escaped death returned to their homes, and ever since 
have been bitter in their hatred against the Germans living 
in their country. To the great distress of my parents the 
rich employer of my father was killed at the battle of Riade, 
and we had no protector whatever, and our lives were in 
danger. 

“My mother had died, and my father decided to return 
to Germany, and with a small Hungarian horse and a poor 
little wagon, we started, taking with us the little money and 
clothing and the few articles that could be put in the wagon. 

“We had not yet reached the border when we were attacked 
by four Hungarian robbers. My father is a very strong 
man, and knew how to handle weapons, but he was over- 
powered and I, but a boy, was of no help to him. We lost 
all we possessed. Father received some dangerous wounds, 
and we were compelled to walk to a small village, where the 
people gave us food, and we rested for a few days. 

“My father was so exhausted from suffering great pain, 
loss of sleep, and physical exertion that after a walk of a few 
days since leaving the village, he was not able to rise from 
the bed of pine branches and leaves that I made for him. 
He believed that his end had come, and commended me to 
the care of a merciful God. 

“But help was near, and such help as we had never 
imagined; for three horsemen appeared from the depths of 
the forest where they had been hunting, and one of them,, 
a distinguished and handsome young man, stepped from his 
horse and stood beside my father. 


— 27 — 


“He saw the miserable condition, listened to our story, 
and sent us to his hunting-lodge not far away, to remain as 
long as we wished. Father was ill for weeks, and every 
comfort that could be had was provided for him. 

“We found the young nobleman to be Prince Henry, now 
Duke Henry of Bavaria, and I cannot tell you of our grati- 
tude to him for all he did for us; and we will be true to 
him to our dying day. 

“You will see that it was only natural that, when the 
strife came between Duke Henry and his brother Otto for 
the crown of Germany, we were on the side of King Henry — 
such he was in our estimation, for my father firmly believes 
that he is the rightful heir to the crown which is now worn 
by King Otto. 

“It is true that Otto is the elder son, but when he was 
born, his father. King Henry, was only Duke of Saxony, 
and when Prince Henry was born, his father was King of 
Germany, so Duke Henry of Bavaria was entitled to succeed 
his father as king. For this reason my father hates King 
Otto as one who wears a crown which rightfully belongs to 
his brother Henry. Therefore, any one who is a friend of 
King Otto is a personal enemy of my father.” 

“But if ever a king had a right to his crown, that king is 
Otto,” said Gerhard von Stein; “for his father, King Henry, 
when about to depart this life, appointed him as his successor, 
and no thoughtful person can be in doubt as to which side 
is right.” 

“I entirely agree with you,” said Wido, “but nothing could 
change my father’s opinion; and what I have said to you is 
to explain to you his reason for not wishing to be friendly.” 

“His love and loyalty to Duke Henry speaks well for him,” 
commented von Stein; “it would be a dishonorable man 
indeed who could forget what the young nobleman did for 
him, and I honor him for it.” 

“Yes; Duke Flenry not only saved his life, but afterward 
gave him the stewardship of Beleke Castle and its belongings ; 
yet, if my father did not at heart believe that he is the true 


28 — 


heir of the crown of Germany, these advantages would have 
no weight with him, for he is the soul of honor.” 

“I believe you,” agreed Gerhard heartily; “his counte- 
nance is proof enough.” Here the conversation ended, and 
they separated, each going to his home. 


CHAPTER V. 

Treason against the King. 

The first winter had been pleasantly spent at Hartrun by 
Gerhard von Stein and his sons, and now it was three days 
before Easter, 941. They had heard through Wido that great 
preparations for the Easter festival were going on at Beleke 
Castle, for Duke Henry of Bavaria was coming to spend the 
holidays there, and would bring with him a number of 
distinguished guests. 

The von Stein boys were glad to hear of this, and hoped 
to get a chance to see the young duke, for they believed 
he must resemble his brother. King Otto, Wido having de- 
scribed him as tall and slender, with blond hair worn in 
ringlets, and dark, expressive eyes. In his opinion he was 
very handsome. He might have added that Duke Henry was 
active, energetic, and restless, and, though self-willed, was 
easily infiuenced. 

They came, and there appeared to be something more 
than usual on the mind of the young duke ; there was a look 
of eager excitement and, at the same time, of indecision. 

No one of the attendants at the castle noticed the unusual 
look and manner of the duke, except Steward Ruppert and 
Wido; and in the evening, in the quietude of their own 
apartment, they spoke of it, but without forming any opinion. 

The small bedroom of Wido adjoined a large apartment 
where Ruppert, as steward of the castle, sat when not on 
duty, and where he would often remain an hour after Wido 
was asleep before retiring to his bedroom on the other side. 

Wido quickly dropped asleep, as a rule, and was a sound 
sleeper, as Ruppert knew by experience; but that night Wido 


— 29 — 


lay awake, thinking of the strange manner of the young duke. 
He also noticed that his father, instead of retiring at his usual 
hour, was walking to and fro in the adjoining apartment, and 
he believed that he, too, was wakeful from excitement or 
anxiety. 

It was scarcely past nine o^clock when he heard some one 
enter and speak in a low tone to his father, and immediately 
he was alert, and eager to learn who it was, and what the 
errand was. 

^^Are you alone, and no one to listen or to interrupt us?’^ 
was asked in a low tone, and he recognized the voice as that 
of Duke Henry. 

“Wholly alone, your Highness. Wido is in his room, 
which is the same with him as being dead. You need not 
worry on his account nor for any other reason.” 

“I know your faithfulness to me, Euppert,” said the Duke, 
“and now I am about to put it to a severe test. As I do not 
know whether or not you will stand this test, I must make 
you promise not to divulge what I am about to tell you.” 

“You may trust me, your Highness; by my souFs salva- 
tion, I will be as silent as the grave. You may put full 
confidence in my word.” 

“I believe you. Now listen to what I will tell you. You 
know as well as I that my brother Otto occupies the throne 
which of right belongs to me. He is, as you know, the eldest 
son of my father, Henry I, but at the time of Otto’s birth 
he was only Duke of Saxony ; when I was born, he was King 
of Germany; this gives me the right to succeed him as king. 
It is impossible for me to engage in open battle with him, but 
in a quicker and easier manner I must have the crown. I do 
not conceal from myself that my plan is dangerous, and that 
the ax of the executioner will be my fate if I do not succeed ; 
but I may as well die that way as to have the torment of 
feeling that I am kept out of my rights. It is Otto or I; 
and there is no room upon the earth for both.” 

“Murder! Oh, my prince!” said Euppert in a low tone 
of horror. “Surely, you are not in earnest, my Gracious 
Duke!” 


— 30 — 


“Never more so; and my true and loyal friends will be 
my helpers.” 

“But oh, remember! King Otto is your brother, and 
a brother’s blood cries to heaven for vengeance. Only a curse, 
not a blessing, can you expect for such treason against your 
king and brother.” 

“This time I am wholly disappointed in you,” returned the 
prince in a tone of displeasure and depression. “But no,” 
he continued in a cheerful, friendly tone; “it is no wonder 
that you do not agree to it, for I have not told you all. You 
are not to be the one to commit the deed, but only to be leader 
of the company that is already here. The king is to have 
a gathering of the great men of his kingdom at the Easter 
festival at Quedlinburg, and I have been invited. It will not 
be difficult, in the confusion of the festival, to carry out our 
plan, and the crown and scepter will be mine. The success 
of the undertaking will be assured if you are at the helm. 
An hour after midnight we will set out for Quedlinburg. 
Now, Euppert, can I count on you?” 

“You know, my prince,” replied the steward after 
a moment of reflection, “that I hate the king and all his ad- 
herents, and you know also that I would gladly shed my 
blood upon the battle-field for you and your cause. I am at 
all times ready to battle with the sword for you against your 
enemies and opponents, but a cowardly, dastardly crime, 
a treacherous assassination, is something in which I dare 
not take part. OH, my beloved prince, do not burden your 
conscience with this terrible sin!” 

“I do not wish to urge upon you what I supposed you 
would be glad to do out of love to me. As I am mistaken in 
this, there is nothing more to say in that respect. But 
I hope it is not too much to ask of you to go to Quedlinburg 
as a protector to me, for it is not unlikely that I may need 
your strong arm and sword in my undertaking.” 

“Yes, your Highness may count on me for that duty. 
I am the right man for protecting you from danger ; for such 
service I am ready, and though I should lose my life. I would 
shed my last drop of blood for you.” 


— 31 


“I thought you would; indeed, I am convinced of it,” and 
after a few more minutes of conversation the duke returned 
to his guests. 

A storm of anxiety and impatience raged in the breast 
of Wido; he was thrilled with the desire to warn King Otto 
of his danger. But what could a poor, powerless boy do to 
accomplish such an undertaking? And should he betray 
Duke Henry, who would suffer the penalty of death should 
his treason become known? Betray one who had taken 
care of his father and himself when they would have perished 
had he not provided for them in their distress, and had given 
them a good home at Beleke Castle? 

Nevertheless, the king must be warned; but how and by 
whom? It was a long distance to Quedlinburg, and an hour 
after midnight Duke Henry and the other conspirators upon 
swift horses would be on their way; it seemed impossible 
to warn the king. 

Then, as if by inspiration, it seemed to him, the thought 
of the new friends at Hartrun came into his mind. He 
would go to them; they were friends of King Otto, and they 
would know of some way to warn him. He would go to 
see them this very moment. 

Rising quietly, he went stealthily out of his room, secured 
the key to the wicket-gate, and flew as swiftly as his feet 
could carry him to Hartrun. 

The night was clear, the beams of the full moon lighted 
field and forest. All nature was at peace; only man was at 
variance with the Creator of all good. 

Risk and Rust joined in a concert of baying when his 
footsteps were heard, and the call to Hengist and Keringer 
was answered in the deep voice of their father. 

^‘Who are you?” he asked. 

am Wido from Castle Beleke. I have something to 
tell you in secret. Let me in! Every moment is precious!” 

Gerhard and his sons appeared immediately, and Wido 
told them hurriedly what he had overheard. 

“The conduct of your father is worthy of all praise. God 
grant that it is not too late to warn the king! Hengist and 


— 32 — 


Keringer, saddle your horses quickly; I am sure the horses 
of the duke and his friends are not more swift than those 
the king gave you. Risk and Rust shall go with you for 
protection. Now hurry as much as possible, and God be 
with you!” 

Wido hurried back to Beleke that his absence might not be 
noticed, and before he reached it, Hengist and Keringer were 
on their lonely way to Quedlinburg, while their father prayed 
that they might not be too late, and also for the poor erring 
one who would slay his brother for a crown. 

King Otto had not yet retired for the night when Hengist 
and Keringer reached the castle of Quedlinburg, but with his 
guests, in pious remembrance of the blessed festival for 
which they had met, yet with Christian cheerfulness, was 
conversing of the peace which ruled in the land at the time, 
realizing that there was much for which to be grateful, 
when suddenly the chamberlain entered, pale and excited. 

“Your Majesty,” he said in a hurried, but suppressed 
tone, “your brother, Duke Henry, is again bent upon your 
destruction, and not in open warfare, but by assassination!” 

“You surely do not mean murder, the murder of 
a brother?” 

“Yes, your Majesty. Duke Henry and a company of 
his adherents have bound themselves by oath to put you 
out of the way during the confusion of the Easter festival, 
so that the crown may be placed upon his head.” 

“Impossible of belief! My brother Henry! Who could 
have invented such a story?” 

“It was not invented, it is a terrible truth.” 

“But from whom did you learn it?” 

“From Hengist and Keringer, the boys who saved your 
life in the forest from the teeth of the bear. In an incredibly 
short time they have ridden from Hartrun upon the horses 
you gave them, for the conspirators were to leave Beleke 
Castle an hour after midnight. They knew they must reach 
here before them, and give the warning; but the duke and 
his followers will soon be here.” 


— 33 — 


“God has sent these boys. But in what way did they 
get knowledge of the plans of the conspirators?” 

The chamberlain told the king of Widows overhearing the 
conversation between Prince Henry and his father and of his 
hurrying to Hartrun. 

“1 believed you when you mentioned Hengist and 
Keringer, and now I am convinced that the report is entirely 
correct” ; and King Otto’s eyes dimmed with tears. “Oh the 
shameful treatment of me by that boy! I have tried all 
I could to satisfy him that I am rightfully occupying the 
throne. Had not the All-merciful sent His angels to watch 
over me, there would have been no hindrance in his way 
to win the crown by the shedding of his brother’s blood. Por 
his sake as well as my own I thank God that I have been 
warned. We have the ablest men of the kingdom with us 
at this time; I will assemble them immediately to consider 
with me what plan to take to frustrate this terrible con- 
spiracy.” 

“You will excuse Hengist and Keringer from appearing 
in your presence until morning,” said the chamberlain ; “they 
were so exhausted from their long ride that I ordered to 
give them something to eat and told them to go to bed. The 
horses dropped down when they reached their stalls, from 
sheer overexertion.” 

The many guests were called from their apartments, and 
a conference was held with regard to the celebration of the 
Easter festival, the whole plan of which was changed, in 
order to thwart the scheme of the conspirators. 

The king received Hengist and Keringer and thanked 
them heartily while hearing the whole story from them. 
They also told him that Wido implored him to spare the life 
of Duke Henry for his terrible treason against his king. 
Wido asked this out of love and gratitude to Duke Henry, 
who had saved the life of his father and his own when they, 
as persecuted Germans, fled from Hungary; and had since 
given them a good home at Beleke Castle and in every way 
was a kind and helpful friend. 

King Otto invited them to remain for the Easter festival. 

King Otto’s Crown. 3 


— 34 — 


but they must not allow Duke Henry or his followers to catch 
sight of them as they might be recognized and suspected of 
having given the king warning. For the day they could 
mingle with the crowd unobserved, and as soon as the 
festival was over, two fresh fine horses would be presented 
to them by the king that they might return that night to 
relieve the anxiety of their father. 

That morning Duke Henry presented himself at the castle, 
and the king received him as if no knowledge had come to 
him of the awful plot against his life ; nor did Duke Henry’s 
manner show any evidence of what was in his mind. 

The Easter festival was celebrated with great splendor. 
Otto, upon a beautifully caparisoned horse, led the brilliant 
procession in kingly attire, the great multitude of young and 
old greeting him with loyal affection and enthusiasm. 

His noble and benign countenance showed no sign of the 
unrest and anxiety that he endured, knowing that at any 
moment a deadly poniard might be plunged into his body. 

Aside from the crowd stood Ruppert, steward of Beleke 
Castle, his troubled countenance showing his distress of 
mind, when he was spoken to by Duke Henry. 

^‘You see that all your anxiety for the king was useless,” 
he said in a low tone. “He certainly has had no warning 
as you imagine. Do you suppose a sagacious man such as 
he is would show himself upon the street in this untroubled 
manner, if he had received a warning? Has he shown one 
sign of expecting an attack from any quarter? Your anxiety 
is foolish; you see specters in the clear light of day.” 

“But your Highness cannot fail to notice that his Majesty 
is so surrounded and hemmed in by his people that it would 
be impossible for any one to force his way to him. He is 
not willing to let this blessed festival be marred, the people 
saddened by seeing him looking anxious and distressed. But 
when the day is past, the mask will be laid aside, and disaster, 
like a whirlwind will overtake you. Flee from here, your 
Highness ! Go now ; in the morning it may be too late.” 

“Oh, Ruppert, lay aside that wailing! You know that, 
had we not been delayed on the way to Quedlinburg, the 


— 35 — 


whole business would have been settled by this time. But 
our whole plan was changed by the accident to the horses. 
Go now, Ruppert, and look forward to to-morrow.” 

The following afternoon was the farewell celebration. 
A stately parade of horsemen with rich armorial costumes 
upon splendidly caparisoned horses, the stately form of King 
Otto in the center, and so compactly surrounded by dukes, 
counts, and other noblemen that the conspirators had not 
the least chance to reach him; and all the sad forebodings 
of Ruppert were renewed in his mind that the king had been 
warned, and death for treason awaited Duke Henry. 

At a place previously agreed upon the parade halted, and 
a company of the king’s men gathered about the conspirators. 

“Arrest them,” called the strong voice of the Duke of 
Swabia, and like a lion upon its prey the circle pounced upon 
Duke Henry and his adherents. 

“Surrender! Resistance is useless,” called the captors; 
and in a moment a terrific battle was raging. 

“Fly ! fly ! It is your only chance,” cried Ruppert. 
“Your horse is fleet, break through the king’s circle. I will 
follow you as fast as posible.” 

Duke Henry took the advice without a moment’s delay, 
and, swift as the bird through the air, master and man passed 
through a narrow street. 

“Let not Duke Henry escape!” called the king. “A rich 
reward to the captor!” 

Six horsemen followed him, but they had reached the 
open country and were speeding away when they came to 
a deep trench which their horses refused to spring over; but, 
goaded by the spurs, they at length made the attempt. 

Ruppert’s horse cleared it, but that of the duke missed 
the opposite banlv by a few inches and fell on his knees, but 
his rider was firm in the saddle, and the noble animal, after 
struggling for a moment for foothold, arose apparently with- 
out harm; but while Ruppert’s horse sped away like the 
wind, that of Duke Henry was lamed. 

“Lost!” he exclaimed. “Save yourself, Ruppert; it is 
all up with me.” 


— 36 — 


“Never!” replied the faithful helper; “take my horse,” 
and he flung himself from the saddle. 

“It is too much! too much! You will suffer the death 
penalty; I will not take your horse.” 

“You must”; and with his giant strength he lifted the 
duke to the saddle. 

“Now away, away! I will follow. Til plunge into the 
forest; that is the safest place.” 

The horses of the pursuers balked at the trench and four 
of them refused to make the trial of springing over ; but the 
two that followed reached Euppert. One of them struck him, 
knocking off his helmet. The blow caused him to fall from 
his horse, and the men passed on in pursuit of Duke Henry. 


CHAPTEK VI. 

Good Friends. 

The day after the second appearance of King Otto on the 
streets of Quedlinburg, closely surrounded by his retinue 
of noblemen and other faithful adherents, Hengist and 
Keringer set out upon their return to Castle Hartrun. 

They had enjoyed the Easter festival to the limit, were 
rested from the fatigue of their swift travel the night before 
Easter, and enjoyed the tranquil journey home. The beauti- 
ful experience of the whole affair, especially King Otto’s 
majestic appearance in his royal garb, was something to be 
remembered. 

“It seems strange to me,” remarked Hengist, “that six 
horsemen could not capture Duke Henry, although they 
followed and searched for him until it grew dark.” 

“I am wondering what became of Euppert,” replied 
Keringer. “He was knocked off his horse by one of the horse- 
men who returned. Search was made for him, but he could 
not be found, or he would have paid the penalty then and 
there for treason.” 

“Listen, brother,” said Hengist. “Eisk and Eust are 


— 37 — 


howling in the forest; they have found something that is 
new to them; let us go and see what it is.” 

They sprang from their horses, tied them to limbs of 
trees, and followed the sound, which led them to a brook in 
the forest; and on the shore they saw the body of a man, 
motionless and apparently lifeless ; it was the body of 
Steward Kuppert. 

The hearts of the boys thrilled with compassion for the 
strong man, helpless, with closed eyes and face deadly pale. 

They knelt by him, opened his doublet, and found to their 
real joy that his heart was beating, though faintly, and 
eagerly they brought water in their caps from the brook, and 
sprinkled it upon his face and wrists. 

After what seemed a long time, Kuppert gave a feeble 
sigh, opened his eyes, and after gazing at the brothers for 
a time, his eyes clouded with anger. 

“Well,” he exclaimed harshly, “what are you doing here?” 

“We are your neighbors at Hartrun.” 

“Yes, and are adherents of King Otto; I saw you at 
Quedlinburg, and I was not glad to see you. I suppose you 
are sent to search for me.” 

“No, we are on our way home, and coming by the forest 
we heard the howling of the dogs and followed the sound. 
We are very glad that we were able to be of some help to you.” 

“That may be true, but I doubt it.” 

“But it is true; we bathed your face and wrists with 
cool water from the brook, and you came to again. Now we 
will help you on one of the horses and take you to Beleke 
Castle.” 

“Why need you trouble yourselves to do that ?” 

“Because you are not able to walk.” 

“You will soon see that I can take care of myself; you 
may betake yourselves to your home.” 

“It would not be Christianlike at all to leave you here 
to suffer.” 

“But I do not wish to have anything to do with you. You 
are of the king’s people ; I hate them all.” 

“After we have taken you to your home, you may think 


— 38 — 


and do as you choose; you can go your way, and we will go 
ours. But you must not refuse our help. Night is coming 
on, and you must not lie here alone. Come, we will help you 
into the saddle.” 

“It is a shame that I should have met with an accident . 
just at this time, and abominable to be dependent upon you,” 
grumbled Ruppert. “I was fleeing from Quedlinburg with 
his Highness Duke Henry; his horse sprang over the trench 
all right, but fell and grew lame. I gave his Grace my horse 
that he might have a chance to save himself. I was on the 
lame horse, and the king’s men, believing me to be one of the 
conspirators, knocked me off the horse. I do not know how 
long I lay there, but when I came to, I walked all that night 
and the next day. A peasant gave me some bread, which 
strengthened me so much that I was able to walk on and 
on, and to my joy I found myself in this blessed forest. 

I dragged myself to the brook, for I was perishing with fever 
thirst. Oh, the fine cool water! I drank and drank, — and 
that is all I can remember. The men that struck me thought 
I was dead. Why I was spared merely to fall into your hands, 
God only knows.” 

The boys made no reply, but with all the strength they 
possessed they helped him on Keringer’s horse, who led it, 
while Hengist walked beside, lending Ruppert the support 
he needed to keep his seat on the saddle, while leading his 
own horse. 

But for these attentions the steward showed not the least 
gratitude or friendliness, but seemed to wish he had been 
left to die by the brook. 

His companions, however, paid no attention to his un- 
grateful behavior, their main desire being to cheer him, and 
make him feel that they were his friends. 

In order to do this, they chatted with each other of their 
childhood days before coming to Hartrun, of the lake and 
of Prince Otto, now the king, who had saved Keringer from 
drowning. Then they spoke of the trials of their parents and 
of the kidnaping of their little brother Arnulf. 

“How old was your little brother when the Hungarians, 


— 39 — 


as you say, made a raid upon your castle and carried him 
off?” asked Ruppert. 

“About a year and a half.” , 

“Have you had no trace of him since?” 

“No trace whatever, and our father and mother grieved 
terribly about it. Mother died when Keringer was five years 
old. Father often said that he and mother would have been 
glad to know that little Arnulf was in his grave rather than 
never to find out what was his fate among the Hungarians.” 

They were now near Hartrun on their way to Beleke, 
and they noticed that Ruppert had grown more pale and 
was trembling, so that it was difficult for Hengist to keep 
him in the saddle. They had passed the entrance to Hartrun 
but a little distance when he fell heavily to the ground, 
unconscious. 

Hengist called to his father and the servants, and Ruppert 
was carried into the castle and laid upon a comfortable bed, 
which he could not leave for many a day. 

Thursday after Easter Wido was in the arbor of the 
garden at Beleke Castle. He had been to Hartrun Castle, 
had seen his father, who had suffered and was yet suffering 
for his treason to King Otto, and had heard from Hengist 
and Keringer of all that had transpired at Quedlinburg, 
also that the fate of Duke Henry was still unknown. Yet 
he could not reproach himself for the part he had taken in 
warning the king of his danger. 

He was pondering over these things when he saw a horse- 
man slowly approaching the secret entrance of the castle, 
and though it was twilight, he recognized Duke Henry. 
He went up to him, ready to wait upon him if it were 
required. 

He found the duke standing at a table in the anteroom, 
upon which he had placed his helmet and sword. 

“Oh, miserable man that I am!” he moaned. “Would 
I not give my life to feel as I did before the terrible thought 
entered my mind to strive for my brother’s crown? Satan 
blinded me, yes, blinded me!” 


40 — 


Wido stepped in, and the duke turned and held out his 
trembling hand. 

^‘In the flight your father and I became separated,” he said 
in a subdued tone; “the enemy was in flerce pursuit of me, 
and I do not know the fate of your father. O Wido, I have 
burdened my conscience with a terrible crime !” 

Wido had in his heart felt keen anger against the one 
whom he so loved, and who had shown his father and himself 
so many favors; but seeing his hopeless condition of mind, 
he could feel nothing but the tenderest pity. 

“The enemy lost track of me in the forest,” continued 
the duke, “and will seek me here in my Castle Beleke. No 
minute while here am I safe. I must resort to flight. But 
where can I go and not meet trouble, danger, and need, — all 
well-deserved punishment ? Oh, that I had never been 
tempted to do my brother harm! But what has been done 
cannot be undone, and I must bear it as best I can.” 

“I can offer your Highness help in only one way,” said 
Wido. “Let me share your flight.” 

“O Wido, do I really hear right? Would you indeed 
share my misery?” and a look of great relief came into the 
duke’s pale face. “But remember, I cannot take a horse: 
my only chance for escape is on foot.” 

Secretly and silently Duke Henry and Wido left the 
castle, and set out aimlessly. Only in the humblest dwellings 
did they dare ask for food, and very often the peasants’ wives 
gave it with words of anger. They considered themselves 
lucky when they found an empty stable or a lonely haystack 
where they could obtain shelter for the night; and to save 
themselves from wild animals, they were compelled to take 
refuge in the branches of a tree. Often their faces and 
hands were torn by briars and thorns. Their clothes were 
worn and torn to rags, so that they were a laughing-stock for 
the village boys; and more than once they were bitten 
by dogs. 

To add to their distress, the duke sprained his ankle, 
and walking now caused him great pain. 

His despair at times was so keen that he was almost 


— 41 — 


willing to be arrested by the bailiffs of the king, and to have 
his troubles ended by the ax of the executioner. 

An angel of comfort was Wido in these despondent times; 
he spoke words of cheer, assured him of better days, and did 
all in his power to comfort him. 

Again and again he would speak of the noble, affectionate 
nature of King Otto, and he comforted the poor misguided 
Duke Henry with the assurance that no revenge lingered in 
the heart of the great and good man against his brother, 
but, instead, mercy and forgiveness. He advised him to go 
to Quedlinburg, and ask his pardon for the crime he had 
intended to commit. 

At first this seemed a terrible thought to Duke Henry, 
but as Wido continued to present it, his objections grew 
fainter, and he began to consider it in the same light as his 
young friend and companion. 

“You are right,” he said one day after a conversation with 
Wido, and when his need had reached the highest point; 

will put myself entirely in the hands of my brother, whom 
I treated so shamefully. I have sinned grievously against 
him, but maybe his love and compassion will be greater than 
my sin. What I have done against him fills me with remorse ; 
but it has led me to repentance. If Otto forgives me, I will 
be his faithful friend unto death. Love for him and faith- 
fulness shall be my watchword.” 

Now that Duke Henry had decided to go to his brother, 
they changed their course, and with weary feet went towards 
Quedlinburg. Completely exhausted and sad of heart they 
reached it. With bare feet and as a repentant sinner Duke 
Henry threw himself upon his knees at the feet of the king. 

“Forgive me, Otto ! Never again will I cause you sorrow 
or grief.” 

“You have indeed caused me much suffering,” replied the 
king. “If there were no love and pity in my heart for you, 
I would give you up this minute to suffer the full penalty 
of the law. But I do believe you are sincere in your love 
for me, and I believe in your repentance. I freely and fully 


— 42 — 


forgive you, and will spare your head from the ax of the 
executioner by fully forgiving you.” 

Under a strong guard King Otto sent him to the imperial 
palace at Ingelheim. Wido, however, was not sentenced to 
accompany him, but returned to his home anxious to see 
his father. 

Duke Henry’s eyes were dim with tears when he bade the 
faithful friend farewell. Wido, while feeling glad to know 
that the wanderings of the one he so loved were past, was 
not entirely free from worry with regard to him. 

In the mean time Kuppert’s life had hung in the balance, 
though under the faithful care of the father and sons at 
Hartrun. At times he had lain unconscious, and again he 
had been delirious with fever. 

Day and night his good Samaritans were at his bedside. 
Cold bandages were laid upon his forehead, his lips were 
moistened with cold water, and all that might distress him in 
regard to Duke Henry was kept from him. But notwith- 
standing all their devoted care of him, he did not seem to 
be on the road to recovery. Sometimes he realized their kind- 
ness to him, and grieved that he had not the strength to 
tell them of his sincere gratitude and of his regret that he 
had hated them because they were adherents of King Otto. 

Gerhard had noticed for some time that the mind of the 
invalid was troubled, and hoped he would speak of it, without 
making any effort, however, to bring it about. 

But one evening, when the two were by themselves, Bup- 
pert spoke. 

“Come a little nearer to me, Gerhard von fetein,” he said 
feebly. “I have for several days been wishing to speak of 
something that lies heavy upon my heart. I think it has been 
a long time since I was brought into this room, and had 
I been a dear friend, you and your sons could have done no 
more for me than you have done. I had never given you 
a friendly word, but you have returned good for evil. It 
seemed unbearable to me to be compelled to accept assistance 
from your sons when I lay helpless by the brook in the forest. 
It was God’s will that I should be brought to Hartrun Castle. 


— 43 — 


The kindness and tenderness that you have daily and hourly 
shown me has softened my heart. The hate fostered in it 
has disappeared like dew in the sun. The hate I harbored 
against you was only owing to your being adherents of King 
Otto, when I knew that my Duke Henry should have been 
king. But that feeling of hate is gone from my heart. Can 
you forgive me, Gerhard von Stein?” 

“I forgave you long ago,” was the answer which came 
from the bottom of the heart. “We all knew that you had 
a kind heart, and that it was your loyalty to Duke Henry, 
who had befriended you when you so needed help, that made 
you look upon us as his enemies.” 

“I do thank you for these words. And now I wish to 
tell you, as I said, of something that has been burdening 
my heart. You believe Wido to be my son, but” — he could 
say no more ; a deadly paleness spread over his features, and 
he grew faint and helpless. 

Gerhard applied restoratives and after a little while Rup- 
pert revived, but did not seem inclined to renew the con- 
versation, while his host naturally wished to hear more. 

“You were speaking of Wido,” he said. “If you feel equal 
to it, I would be glad to hear what you wished to tell me.” 

“I cannot call to memory what it was that I intended 
telling you. O yes, now I know. But I feel too weak now; 
I will tell you all as soon as I will be able to do so.” 

When Wido reached home and found that his father was 
at Hartrun, he hurried there, and was rejoiced to find him 
so improved that a few days later they returned to Beleke 
Castle. 

Time passed on, and peace reigned between the two 
castles Hartrun and Beleke; happy, contented life in the 
country. 

It was now the joyous Christmas time of 941, and winter 
ruled in its most rigorous form. Mountains, meadows, and 
the bridges over the Rhine and other rivers wore thick 
mantles of snow, and the whole face of Nature was shadowed 
by a gray sky, which foreboded a deeper covering of the 
white mantle. 


— 44 — 


Weeks had passed since Duke Henry had become a pris- 
oner of the imperial palace at Ingelheim, weeks which seemed 
years. 

He was surrounded by every comfort and privilege, and 
had no cause to complain of anything except his loss of 
liberty. 

His change from the terrible dread of arrest by the king’s 
bailiffs, he felt, should have given him serene content; 
instead, he was full of anxiety and unrest, his treason against 
the king had robbed him of all peace. 

Shame and regret were ever present with him, and robbed 
him of sleep. His mother. Queen Matilda, had interceded 
for him with the king. Henry had always been her favorite 
son, and he was confident for a time that her pleadings 
would avail, and that he would be set free; but as yet he 
was a prisoner. 

There was a young chaplain in the imperial palace who 
took a deep interest in the royal prisoner; but for a time 
his cheering words struck no responsive chord in the heart 
of the young dulm. 

“If my brother does not pardon me,” he said to the chap- 
lain two days before Christmas, “I do not know how I am 
to endure life. No one but he has the power to free me, 
and he can do this only by a free pardon.” 

“I do not believe that King Otto could refuse it if he 
would see you, and you would ask it in person. He will be 
in Frankfort to celebrate the Christmas festival, and it would 
be a good opportunity for you to see him. I will accompany 
you to Frankfort if you wish.” 

Duke Henry gladly accepted the chaplain’s offer, and the 
latter selected three of the attendants as guides and pro- 
tectors, and secretly and silently they left the castle that 
night, and started on their long walk, the young duke in the 
garb of a penitent. 

The next day they rested in a deserted hut in a forest, 
and that night took up their journey again, reaching Frank- 
fort in the morning just as the bells were ringing the Christ- 
mas matins. 


— 45 


^‘Your Highness will gather strength and courage in 
listening to the bells proclaiming peace on earth and good 
will to men,” said the chaplain cheerfully. 

“Yes, they are; and oh, how loving and forgiving they 
sound to me! My brother Otto never fails to attend matins 
in the church; he will be here, and I shall see him. Surely 
in this holy place he will not turn from me; he will listen to 
my petition.” 

In the dimness of the pillared, arched entrance stood 
Duke Henry; he had removed his foot-covering, and with 
bare feet, as a penitent, he waited for the king. 

He had not long to wait. Soon the noble, majestic form 
of his brother Otto was seen to enter the portal. From behind 
one of the pillars the penitent came quickly forward, and 
threw himself at his feet, his bowed head almost touching 
the floor. 

Deep sobs convulsed his frame, and no words came from 
his pale lips. 

King Otto was deeply touched, and tears of pity and 
brotherly love filled his eyes as he looked from his height to 
the prostrate man. 

“Is it indeed Henry?” he asked in a kind tone, and he 
stretched forth his hand to raise him from the marble floor 
of the cathedral. 

“I am not worthy to look upon your face, but will lie here 
until you grant me forgiveness and pardon for the sake of 
the risen Christ, whom you so honor, pardon for your sinning, 
but truly repentant brother !” 

King Otto’s eyes were dim with tears, and for a moment 
he was silent. “This day,” he said, “the Son of God came 
upon earth, and by His life and death won forgiveness for the 
sins of men. He should be an example for me. ‘On earth 
peace, good will to men,’ sang the angels, and there should be 
peace between my brother and me. I will not only pardon 
your sin against me, but it shall be as though it had never 
been committed.” 

Saying this. King Otto raised his brother from the floor, 
and pressed him to his heart. 


— 46 — 


Erom that hour Duke Henry was a faithful friend of hiS 
noble-hearted brother, and King Otto never had reason to 
regret that he had brought peace to his repentant kinsman 
on that blessed Christmas morning. 

He gave back to him the Grand Duchy of Bavaria, which 
he had forfeited, and all else of which his treason had de- 
prived him. As Duke of Bavaria Henry did the kingdom an 
inestimable service, for in 949 the Hungarians again broke 
into Germany, first swarming over Bavaria. But this time 
Duke Henry was victorious; as no one had done before, he 
vanquished the HungarianSj and secured from the robbers 
all the treasures they had taken from the Germans. 

Duke Henry did not keep it a secret that his intended 
assassination of the king was frustrated by Wido, Hengist, 
and Keringer, and was deeply grateful to them for saving 
him from the frightful deed. He felt that he never could 
repay them. 

He was deeply anxious to take Wido to Bavaria, that he 
might be always near him, but to this Ruppert would not 
give consent. “Your Highness,” he said, “without him 
I would not care to live; I know it is selfish in me, and I am 
standing in the boy^s way to progress; but he is my only 
treasure in life; he is my comfort.” 

Thus it was that Wido remained at Beleke, and the 
greatest friendship existed between him and Hengist and 
Keringer. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A Future Queen. 

In one of the walled cities of Burgundy was a fine castle, 
one of the residences of the ruler of that kingdom, and where 
he, the queen, and their young daughter Adelheid, with many 
attendants and servants, lived at times during each year. 

Not only was the castle an attractive home, but the sur- 
roundings were all that could be desired, for nature and art 
had combined to beautify them. 

Adjoining the large garden with its myriads of flowers 


— 47 — 


and shrubs was a forest belonging to the estate. One sununer 
afternoon, in the year 945, Adelheid, wishing a change from 
the garden, unlocked the small gate leading into the forest, 
and for the first time in her fourteen years of life viewed 
the new and varied beauties about her. 

Under the shadows of the great trees she gathered wild 
flowers, the rays of sunlight which gleamed between the 
branches lighting her beautiful blond hair, bright eyes, and 
fair, innocent, childlike face. 

After a time her attention was attracted by a squirrel that 
ran up the trunk of a tree and sprang lightly from limb to 
limb; and when it disappeared, she returned to the bank 
which overlooked a brook running between the rocks, and sat 
down to listen to its gentle murmur. 

The moss upon the bank was soft and made a pleasant 
place to rest, with a gentle elevation, which served as a pillow, 
and without being conscious of it, she fell asleep. 

There was no sound to disturb her, the place was safe 
from intruders, and there was no fear in her mind of anything 
that would harm to cause her to keep awake. But between 
the rocks glided a viper, it crept up the bank upon which lay 
the sleeping girl, and noiselessly coiled up upon her breast. 

In the mean time a girl of nearly the age of Adelheid had 
passed through the park on the way from the city to her home, 
and, seeing the gate open that led to the forest, she concluded 
to shorten her way by passing through. 

Her quick glance saw the danger to the sleeping girl. 
Her face paled; however, she did not lose her presence of 
mind, but, stepping quietly to some brushwood lying near, 
she selected a straight, strong stick, slipped it under the 
sleeping serpent, and threw it with force against a rock. 
It was stunned and unable for a moment to move, and the 
girl, with quick strokes of the stick, killed it. 

Adelheid was awakened by the blows, and gazed in sur- 
prise at the girl beside her. 

^‘Who are you?” she asked. ^^Did I dream that I heard 
some one striking with a stick?” 

“No, you did not dream; I will show you,” and she 


— 48 — 


brought the viper to her on the rod, explained her presence in 
the forest, and expressed her joy at having come in time to 
kill the reptile. 

“It might have bitten both of us,’’ said Adelheid with 
a shudder. “Come, let us thank the dear Father in heaven 
for sparing our lives,” and kneeling down by the bank, she 
gave thanks. Then the two sat on the bank to talk over the 
strange meeting. 

“Will you tell me your name?” asked Adelheid. 

“Yes; it is Hedwig, and my father was a water-toll 
collector; the place was given him by our good king. We 
lived in a little house on the shore, and were so happy, we 
four; but my mother died last year, and my father was 
killed by a bear only a few weeks ago.” Tears filled her blue 
eyes at the remembrance. 

“Did you always live in Burgundy?” 

“Yes; but my father and mother were Germans; and 
my mother lived in a count’s family here in Burgundy as 
ladies’ companion. My father was named Conrad, and when 
the king gave him the place, and the house to live in, he and 
my mother were married.” 

“Are you entirely alone in the house?” 

“I will be, for my brother Hildeward went this morning 
to Germany to see if any of our parents’ relatives will give 
me a home if I do not get one here. We know that there 
is a brother of my father, named Gerhard von Stein, and 
a brother of my mother, named Gozbert, who is in the service 
of King Otto as forester and huntsman. I hope he will 
get back safely.” 

“What will you do now that he is away ?” 

“I will try to get work; I am strong and love to work.” 

“Come and see my mother,” said Adelheid eagerly; “she 
will care for you, and will be glad to see you because you 
saved me from the viper.” 

“Is your home far from here?” asked Hedwig, in whose 
breast the invitation had raised a hope. 

“No, it is in that castle with a high tower.” 


— 49 — 


‘‘There?” exclaimed Hedwig in astonishment. “Is your 
father a rich man?” 

“I do not know; but he is king of Burgundy.” 

“Then you are a princess!” and the girFs face showed 
such surprise and admiration that Adelheid laughed gleefully. 

“Certainly ! You must have seen me some time when 
you passed through the park.” 

“No; and I never thought of you being a princess because 
you are here alone. Do not think ill of me for talking to you 
as if you were a poor girl like me.” 

“You foolish girl! If you only knew how glad I am to 
be with some one who talks to me as she would to other giris.” 

“Then you will not think me too bold if I ask you 
a question?” 

“No; tell me exactly what you wish, and I will answer 
if I can.” 

“Does your mother know that you are out in this forest 
alone ?” , * 

“No; and it is no wonder that you think it strange,” and 
her sweet face flushed; “I will tell you how it was. 

“I am allowed to be by myself in the garden every after- 
noon. When I have learned all my lessons in the morning, 
I am free for two hours. The garden, as you know, is sur- 
rounded by a high wall. It is a lovely place, but I was tired 
of it, and longed to see the forest, where there are so many 
new things. As you see, I am near the postern gate, which 
leads to the garden, and would hear the flrst call; but I did 
not know there were vipers here. Now come with me and 
see my mother.” 

They clasped hands, ran through the postern gate, locked 
it, and went up the steps of the castle and to the apartment 
where Adelheid knew she would And her mother. 

“Mother, this is Hedwig; she has neither father nor 
mother, and her brother has gone to Germany, and she will 
be alone in the house. Please let her come to live with us.” 

The queen was well pleased with the modest appearance 
of the girl, and after some conversation found her to be 

King Otto’s Crown. 4 


— 50 


intelligent and companionable, and she believed they would 
not be mistaken in giving her a home. 

Nor were they mistaken, as years of companionship and 
helpfulness proved. Lovely in disposition, kind in her ways, 
never forgetting the difference of their social position, she 
was at all times a true and faithful, but humble friend. 

Several weeks after Hedwig had found a good home in 
the castle, a boy of about sixteen years, handsome of face 
and straight of form, was walking through a forest near 
Merseburg in Germany. Upon his dark, curly hair rested 
a fur cap, in which was an eagle’s feather, and over his 
shoulder was slung a cross-bow, a quiver of arrows, and 
a bugle. In his right hand was a hunting-spear, and in 
his belt a bright knife. 

In appearance and manner he bore such a resemblance 
to Wido that they would have been taken for brothers. 

Upon reaching the edge of the forest, he saw the form 
of an elderly man of almost giant size, with broad shoulders, 
and gray hair and beard. In his hands was a bow from 
which an arrow had evidently been sent at a wild animal of 
some kind. 

The boy secreted himself, and a moment later a roe came 
in view looking about it as if scenting danger. It had not 
lowered its head when an arrow of the huntsman whistled 
through the air, but missed its aim. The roe sprang away, 
coming directly in view of the traveler, who had taken his 
bow from his shoulder, fitted it with an arrow, and took aim. 
The roe made a leap into the air, and then fell to the ground; 
the arrow had done its work. 

The gray-bearded hunter stepped from the tall bushes and 
came to look at the roe. 

^‘Kuppert, — are you really Euppert, or do my eyes deceive 
me?” exclaimed the boy. 

“What do you mean? I am not Euppert” 

“You are the living image of a man I know.” 

“I have a twin brother, and his name is Euppert, but he 
lives in Saxony, miles and miles from here. I would like 
to know who you are.” 


— 51 — 


“Hildeward is my name. I came from Burgundy, and 
see,” he continued as he stooped down to the roe, “my arrow 
struck exactly where it was aimed.” 

“It did,” responded the hunter. “How long have you 
been on your travels?” 

“About two weeks; I did not come directly here, but 
stopped for three days on the Lippe River, for there I became 
acquainted with your brother Ruppert and his son Wido. 
I met them in the forest, where they were hunting, and was 
their guest for three days at Beleke Castle. You may well 
say that Ruppert is your brother; for such a resemblance 
I could not believe possible ; his face, form, voice, and manner 
are exactly yours.” 

“For years we have not been as brothers, but enemies. 
Some years ago Ruppert left Hungary for Germany. It was 
at the time the Hungarians fought King Henry I, father of 
King Otto, in 933. In the battle Ruppert was struck on 
the head, and badly injured. By God’s mercy, Henry, King 
Otto’s younger brother, who was hunting, found him; and 
the noble son of a noble king took care of him and his 
miserable family, and helped them on their way to Saxony. 

“Of course, Ruppert was deeply grateful, and by right 
should be; but he need not, through good and evil, stay on 
his side as he has always done. You must have heard that 
this same Duke Henry has tried to take his brother’s life, 
but through even this evil against King Otto, Ruppert has 
stood heart and soul with Duke Henry. 

“As, naturally, I stood by King Otto, you may well believe 
that in these perilous times I will not speak well of my 
brother. But that is all in the past. Henry asked pardon 
of the king, it was granted, and now Ruppert is no longer 
an antagonist of King Otto.” 

“Yes; Ruppert kept nothing of this from me,” remarked 
Hildeward; “he was truly friendly, and we were sorry 
to part.” 

“Now listen, boy,” said the hunter, who had been eying the 
roe; “you appear to be a good shot; I believe the arrow 
w^ent to the roe’s heart. Was its shoulder your aim?” 


— 52 


“Your question vexes me,” laughed Hildeward. “My 
arrow scarcely ever errs from the point I wish it to make; 
I aimed for the heart.” 

“Now, boy, I do not wish to offend you, but you must 
have had a good instructor to make you so adept.” 

“It was my father; he was known far and near for his 
skill in the use of weapons; yet he was not a hunter, but 
a gatherer of water-tolls.” 

“I believe you; and I cannot understand how I failed to 
hit that roe; it has been many years since I missed my aim. 
The eye of a deer is not too small a target for my arrow.” 

“I am sure of that, and the most skilful of hunters cannot 
say that they never miss their aim.” 

“I am heartily glad that your arrow brought down the 
roe. Early to-morrow morning a fine roast of it will be in 
the kitchen of the king’s castle at Mnrseberg. King Otto and 
his son Ludolph are there now, and no one loves a roast of 
young deer better than King Otto, and I do thank you for 
your sure aim.” 

“Does King Otto ever hunt in this forest?” 

“Yes, when his ^ Majesty sojourns at Merseburg. He loves 
to hunt in the German forests.” 

‘“I hope I may have a chance to see your king.” 

“That will be easily done. It is understood that you are 
to stay with me in my hunter’s cabin as long as you will, 
for I cannot deny that I am well pleased with you. Come 
now; it is time for supper. The jay is sounding its evening 
call, which means that night is not far off.” 

“I heartily thank you for your invitation, but as yet 
I do not know who it is that is so kind as to invite me.” 

“Have I not told you that I am a hunter?” laughed his 
new friend as they started out. “And yet I was not always 
a hunter. , I was a soldier and served as a forester to King 
Henry, the father of King Otto, when there were times of 
peace. Truly, when a feud was on hand, my soldier blood 
was up; I could not remain in the forest, but took part in 
all the battles.” 

“But you have not told me your name. How will I know 
you are my uncle unless I know your name?” 


— 53 — 


“Your uncle? Gozbert is my name; but that does not 
make me your uncle.” 

“Yes, it does. Did you not have a sister named Hada- 
moth ?” 

“Yes, certainly; but I have not heard of her for a long 
time. Do you bring news of her?” 

“Your sister Hadamoth was my mother; she died half 
a year ago.” 

“You the son of my sister Hadamoth?” exclaimed the 
hunter joyously as he clasped the hand of Hildeward. 
“O boy, I never expected such happiness!” 

“And to think that I was with Euppert and Wido three 
days, and they did not mention that they were uncle and 
cousin to me. My mother often spoke to me of her brother 
Gozbert, but I did not know she had a brother Euppert. Nor 
did Wido tell me that it was my uncle Gerhard von Stein 
that owned that fine estate Hartrun. 

“I wish I had come to see you first, then I would have ' 
known that my uncle Gerhard von Stein had left the old 
fortress that my father had spoken of, and where I expected 
to visit him. 

“How did he get that splendid property, uncle?” 

“It was given to him by King Otto for some service 
Gerhard had done him. All the world spoke of the splendid 
gift, and in this way it came to my ears. But what I wish 
to ask of you is. How was it that your father left the home- 
land, and how did he make the acquaintance of my sister 
Hadamoth ? It was a surprise to me that she married Conrad 
von Stein, the brother of a knight.” 

“I have never heard his reason for leaving the old home- 
stead. All I know is that he took service in the family of 
a count, and there became acquainted with my mother. 
Through the influence of that nobleman he got the position 
of collector of water-tolls. 

“We lived very happily in our small house on the shore. 
Now my sister Hedwig is alone there, but we have kind 
neighbors there, and they will take care of her until I return.” 


54 — 


CHAPTEK VIII. 

A Change of Homes. 

Twilight reigned in the forest when Gozbert and his 
nephew reached their destination, the small cabin with two 
rooms. It was built of logs, filled in with earth and lime, 
and the floor was sanded. 

The roof was made of poles covered with reeds and rushes, 
which kept out snow and rain, and the only window in the 
hut was covered with parchment, which allowed a dim light 
to stream into the hut. 

The door was so low that both men had to stoop to enter, 
and the room seemed almost bare of furniture, only a rough 
table and blocks of wood for seats, and the bedroom adjoining 
was quite as simple in its appointments. 

The roe had been carried to the cabin on the shoulder of 
Gozbert, and it was but short work for the two to provide 
from it steaks for supper, which Gozbert broiled over the 
open fire in the huge fireplace, and which, with brown bread, 
made a supper that was entirely satisfactory. When finished, 
Hildeward put the few dishes and pans back on the shelf, 
and they took seats under the spreading branches of a great 
oak that shaded a spring gushing forth clear, cold water. 

“I hope you will stay with me, Hildeward,” said his uncle ; 
“it would be the greatest joy of my heart. I have long wished 
for a helper, and one is really needed for the forest and in 
the hunt, and King Otto has more than once spoken of the 
need. Now promise me that you will stay.” 

“It seems hardly fair to you not to promise, uncle,” replied 
the young man. “I would have no employment in my old 
home, while it will be no trouble to Hedwig to secure a place 
in a home. Her neighbors will help her, for they love her 
almost as they do their own children.” 

For some time uncle and nephew conversed in the cool, 
fragrant place on the edge of the forest, and then retired 
to their place of rest. Bear-skins with light covering was all 
that was required, and they slept the sleep that active out- 
door life gives. 


— 55 — 


At daylight they were awakened by a rapping at the door 
with a stick, the caller being on horseback. 

“Wake up, Gozbert,” said a voice he recognized as one 
of the huntsmen. “The king. Prince Ludolph, and several 
gentlemen of the court are out upon a hunt of wild boars. 
A whole herd has broken through the mountain enclosure, and 
are roaming about the forest. We are to wait for the king 
- at the usual place. Hurry out, so that you won’t keep us 
waiting.” 

Uncle and nephew sprang to their feet, and in a few 
minutes were out upon their way, weapons in hand. 

“Is not Prince Ludolph too young for such a dangerous 
hunt?” asked Hildeward as they hurried along. 

“You need not imagine the young prince to be a weakling; 
he is as tall as you, and for two or three years has joined in 
the hunt with his father. There is no better training for 
young men than the hunt. Every nobleman and knight 
knows that the hunt trains their sons for war. A king, above 
all others, should know this. It is never too early for a young 
man to hunt wild animals. He must learn all the rules of 
the hunt, and a prince especially must know that the wild 
animals of the forest must not gain the mastery. Let him 
join in the hunt with spear and bow and attack the wild 
and, sometimes, ferocious animals, and he will learn as much 
as if fighting men.” 

“Do you suppose the king expects a great hunt to-day?” 

“No; for if he did, preparations would have been made 
yesterday by bringing many good hunters together, food 
would be provided, and tents for shelter for the night. Then, 
if ladies were to be in the company, many arrangements for 
their comfort would have to be made.” 

King Otto and his company had not arrived when they 
reached the appointed place, but they heard hunting-horns, 
and soon the whole party came in sight. 

Besides King Otto and Prince Ludolph there were twenty 
other horsemen, with all the weapons of the hunt and with 
hunting-horns of silver or costly ivory. By them, signals 


were given, also directions, instructions, or, perhaps, repri- 
mands. 

King Otto’s quick eye soon took notice of Hildeward. 
His stately form and handsome face pleased him well, and 
he wondered w^ho he might be. 

“Ha, old man! At last you have come across a helper 
that is of some account,” he said. “You have been in the 
service of King Henry for many years, and it is time for 
you to have some one to depend upon. Who is he?” 

The old hunter took keen pleasure in telling the king of 
the unexpected coming of his nephew, and of his wish to 
keep him. “He is a first cousin of Hengist and Keringer 
von Stein,” he added by way of explanation. 

Hildeward was charmed with the appearance of the king 
and his son Ludolph. The latter rode upon a spirited horse, 
that pranced and stamped, eager for the hunt ; but the prince 
held him with a firm, though gentle hand. 

He was watching the king as he conversed with Gozbert, 
and then rode up to Hildeward. 

“I could tell that you are a cousin of the von Stein boys 
because you look so much like Hengist. In what way are 
you related?” 

“Their father, Gerhard von Stein, and my father, Conrad 
von Stein, were brothers.” 

“I wish you would stay at my side during the hunt, if 
possible,” said the prince. “Our horses must be left with 
the grooms when we follow the wild animals through the 
thickets and among trees.” 

Soon the forest echoed with the sound of horns and the 
calls of the hunters, and a little later the dark forms of the 
wild boars were seen trying to escape. 

The prince and Hildeward were together, when they heard 
the rustling of dry twigs and leaves in the bushes, and out 
rushed one of the largest of the animals, evidently wounded. 

The prince sprang aside to avoid collision, when the 
hunter who had wounded it ran with a long spear to send 
the animal to the ground, but it turned suddenly, the spear 


— 57 — 


missed its mark, and the tusks of the enraged animal were 
run into one of the limbs of the prostrate man. 

Ludolph sprang to his rescue with his spear, but before 
he could use it, he was thrown to the ground, and his life 
hung by a thread. However, before the teeth of the animal 
could reach his throat, a spear thrown by Hildeward pierced 
it through the heart. 

The prince, dazed from the suddenness of the attack and 
from fright, could scarcely realize that he was not injured, 
and stretched out his arms to his deliverer. 

^‘You saved my life,’^ he said, pale and trembling from 
emotion. “This shall never be forgotten.” 

“From my heart I thank God that He gave me an oppor- 
tunity to be of service to you. But we must look after the 
poor man who did his best to save you.” 

The two knelt beside the huntsman and examined his 
wounds. They found that, while deep, they were not dan- 
gerous. They bound them up as well as they could, and the 
prince called for help and had a litter made, so that he 
might be carried to a safe place. 

The king soon heard of the affair, and quickly coming to 
the spot, he embraced his son with the deepest emotion. 

“The Almighty has indeed been wonderfully kind to us; 
and how wonderful it is that two members of a family have 
been saved from death, and by four members of another 
family, and these in different parts of the country, I from 
the teeth and claws of a bear, you from the tusks and teeth 
of this ferocious animal that lies dead before us. 

“I was saved from assassination by three young men of 
the same family, and you, my son, from a terrible death 
by another member of that family. Now, my young friend,” 
he added, turning to Hildeward, “tell me of what help I can 
be to you, and do not fear that you are asking too much. 
I and my family owe much to you.” 

“Father,” said Prince Ludolph, “ask him to come and live 
in the castle with us. I would love to have him for a dear 
companion.” 

“You have made a good proposition. I shall be glad if 


— 58 — 


the young man will accept. How is it, my young friend, will 
you agree to my son’s request?” 

“Pardon me, your Majesty, but I must first ask my uncle 
Gozbert’s consent. He asked me last evening at his cabin to 
remain with him, and I promised to do so. I must agree 
to what he says.” 

“Just what I would expect of you. Now the question 
rests with your uncle, and we will do as he desires in the 
matter.” 

A look of keen disappointment stole over the features of 
Gozbert when he was told of the request of Ludolph, but,, 
considering the advantage to his nephew, he made no protest.. 

“It is like taking a piece out of my heart to give him up,” 
he said. “It would be a great pleasure to me to have him in 
my home, but I bow to the will of my king; I give him up 
to you.” 

“Your nephew shall not be entirely taken from you; as- 
often as you wish and he desires he may be with you in your 
home in the forest.” 

“Will I always be welcome to come, uncle?” asked Hilde- 
ward. “I enjoyed my short visit with you, and would like 
to come again.” 

“You cannot come too often; you will only be too- 
welcome.” 

Hildeward now had an enviable home in the castle at 
Merseburg; but he equally loved the old cabin in the forest,, 
and his visits there were the bright spots in the life of his 
uncle Gozbert. 

As time passed on, the king and his court sojourned 
at different castles in his kingdom, and Hildeward always- 
accompanied his beloved friend Ludolph ; but whenever with- 
in reaching distance of the cabin in the Merseburg forest, ho 
never failed to visit it. 


— 59 


CHAPTEK IX. 

A Family Council. 

Two years had passed since Hedwig had saved Princess 
Adelheid from the teeth of the viper, and much had trans- 
pired in those two years. 

Scarcely beyond childhood, the beautiful and lovable 
princess had become, in the year 947, the wife of the nine- 
teen-year-old King Lothair of Italy. 

Lothair was the son of King Hugas, and had been de- 
clared king during the lifetime of his father. 

After the splendid wedding festival had been celebrated, 
Adelheid accompanied her husband to her new home in Italy. 
Hedwig was not separated from her, but was still her beloved 
companion, and the love and loyalty of the girl to the 
young queen was unbounded. 

It would have been difficult to have found a happier 
wedded pair than Lothair and Adelheid. It could not be 
otherwise, for both were noble of heart and pious, and it 
was a marriage from love and appreciation of each other. 

Adelheid’s beauty was spoken of in all lands ; and not only 
her beauty, but her amiability and charm of manner and 
sweet simplicity of character. 

Lothair also had a noble character and in appearance he 
was kingly. He was tall and he had the dark eyes and hair 
of his countrymen; and his kindness and consideration for 
every one made him greatly beloved and honored. 

But scarcely three years of this beautiful life had been 
passed, when clouds and darkness caused by others took the 
place of happiness. 

In the year 950, the young king and queen, who had 
resided three years in Pavia, changed their place of residence 
to Turin. 

That Lothair had some good reason for departing from the 
custom of former rulers was known to Adelheid, but as he 
did not mention the reason, she made no inquiry. She felt 
in her heart, however, that it was something that caused him 
anxiety. Often he appeared in deep thought or in seeming 


— 60 — 


perplexity, and sometimes his sad eyes rested upon his loved 
and lovely wife with deep sadness. 

In November of that year he took his customary evening 
walk, accompanied by a servant, the walk extending to his 
hunting-lodge in the forest. He returned with an anxious 
expression upon his pale features, and Queen Adelheid could 
no longer refrain from giving expression to her anxiety and 
sympathy. 

“Tell me, Lothair, what it is that troubles you, and has 
taken all joy out of your heart and mine. It distresses me 
that I cannot share your trouble.” 

The king glanced upon her with a look of the tenderest 
affection, and seemed about to tell her ; he hesitated, however, 
and seemed to consider, and the moment passed. 

“I cannot be happy seeing that something troubles you; 
I am sure that your burden would be lightened by sharing 
it with a true and faithful friend.” 

“I believe it is unjust to you to keep it from you,” he 
replied sadly. “Come, my Adelheid, and sit by me, and I will 
tell you my secret trouble. It is because of Count Beren- 
garius, of whom you have often heard. As you know, his 
wife Willa is one of our House, for she and I are brother’s 
children. In consequence . of this relationship Berengarius, 
through the influence of Willa, gave much trouble to my 
father. King Hugas, and in various ways has sought to do 
many things to my disadvantage. 

“Berengarius is cunning, artful, avaricious, and covetous, 
and would halt at no means to secure his aim to displace me 
and put himself upon the throne. 

“His wife is tyrannical and longs for power. Woe to any 
one who incurs her hatred ; and there is no one whom she and 
Berengarius hate as they hate me, and through me they hate 
you; and both are vindictive and revengeful.” 

“We have never done harm to them in any way;, why do 
they hate us?” 

“To make it clear to you, I must go back to the year 940 , 
when there was disagreement between my father and Beren- 
garius in regard to the crown, and Berengarius, being the 


— 61 — 

weaker, had to take to flight. He took refuge first to Herman,. 
Duke of Swabia, and later to King Otto of Germany; and 
when my father demanded him of this proud king, his answer 
was, ‘Far he it from me to betray one to whom I have given 
protection.’ 

“In a year Berengarius returned of his own free will to 
Italy, with the vain hope that he could overpower my father 
with weapons in the hands of brave soldiers. By skilful 
management he had made many of the great of the kingdom 
traitors to my father, and on account of their treason and 
disloyalty they had to resort to flight. 

“I, though young, was sent to Milan to gather the great 
people of the realm to put the crown of the kingdom upon 
my head. I found no opposition and was called to the throne. 
All this was against the wishes of Berengarius, for he was 
expecting the crown for himself, and very soon after, my 
father died very suddenly. Since then Berengarius has the 
appearance of being a well-meaning adviser and defender of 
me and mine, but I know the craftiness and treachery of 
himself and his wife. They want the crown; I am standing 
in their way, and they would put me out of that way without 
scruple.” 

“Oh, you frighten me!” exclaimed Adelheid, turning very 
pale, while Lothair’s face was almost ghastly. “You do not 
look well; tell me, are you ailing?” 

“Yes, I am not feeling well; I hope it will pass over. 
I feel faint. I will go and lie down. Do not feel anxious, 
Adelheid; if God wills, I will be better in the morning.” 

The young queen spent the night in watching, Hedwig 
beside her, both hoping for the best. Perfect silence reigned 
in the palace, and as Hedwig passed two servants in the 
corridor, she heard one of them whisper, “I fear he is 
poisoned.” When she returned to the sick-room, she told 
the queen what she had heard, and the horrified listener 
could with difficulty repress a scream, for that terrible 
thought had never entered her mind. She felt that she must 
tell Lothair what had been said, and he listened without 


surprise. 


— 62 — 


“Yes, I believe the man is right,” he said; “the enemies’ 
cunning has outmastered my caution. I knew when I first 
felt ill that poison had been given me, and I also know how 
it was done. I kept it a secret from you, hoping all the 
time that the physician’s skill could counteract it. All means 
have been used without your knowledge, knowing your dis- 
tress of mind should you be told of it. But now it is all 
in vain, and I feel that you should be told; the way to the 
throne will soon be open.” 

Queen Adelheid wrung her hands and wept and moaned ; 
and Hedwig’s heart ached for them as she silently wept. 

“Listen, my beloved Adelheid,” said Lothair, “and I will 
tell you how this affliction came upon me. I was on my way 
home from my visit to the hunting-lodge and had reached 
the edge of the forest, and halted to view the fine landscape 
spread before me from the bank of the brook. I seldom ride 
or walk there that I do not halt, and feel refreshed by the 
lovely scene. I alighted from my horse, for a neat-looking 
little girl had come by with a basket of plums, fine and fresh, 
of the kind I like, and without a thought of danger I selected 
some and gave her a gold piece for them. They were fully 
ripe and rich in flavor, and being thirsty, I ate all that 
I had selected. 

“When I finished, and was about to mount my horse, 
I asked the child if the plums had grown in her father’s 
garden. She said, ‘No’; but a strange gentleman had given 
the little basketful to her, and told her that a distinguished 
knight would pass that way, and that he would buy them and 
pay her richly. 

“Like a flash of lightning,” continued the king, “it came 
to me that the plums were poisoned, and I wondered at my 
lack of thought in buying them. But a ray of hope came with 
the thought that many of my friends knew of my fondness for 
the fruit, and had sent them. Another comfort was that no 
one would give the child the poisoned fruit without warning 
her not to eat them. But even with this in mind, I threw 
all that were left into the brook. For some time I did not 
feel the effects of eating the fruit ; then I began to feel faint, 


— 63 — 


and it was only with some effort that I could collect my 
thoughts. But I kept it from you. Now, however, I feel that 
it is better to tell you that you may beware of Berengarius 
and Willa.” 

Lothair’s voice grew very weak before he finished, and 
later he grew unconscious, and before morning he passed 
away. 

The young queen was overcome with grief. Hedwig was 
her comfort in the bitter trial and loss she had sustained. 

The body of the young king lay in state for several days 
that the people might see the one they had so esteemed. Then 
it was placed in an iron-bound casket and taken to Milan. 

In the beginning of April of the following year Adelheid 
with her friend Hedwig and her faithful servants returned 
to Pavia, a step which she had great cause to regret, for in 
a palace at Pavia Count Berengarius and his wife Willa 
were watching the trend of events. 

One evening the count was walking restlessly to and fro 
in one of the apartments of the castle. He would have been 
handsome were it not for a wavering, dissatisfied look in 
his eyes and a morose expression about his mouth. Evidently 
he was expecting some one, for he frequently halted to listen. 

At length footsteps were heard in the corridor, and his 
wife entered, accompanied by their young son Adelbert. 

Both were richly dressed, and strongly resembled each 
other, the same sinister expression making their countenances 
anything but agreeable. 

“I have waited for at least half an hour for you, Willa,” 
said Berengarius in a harsh, complaining tone, ^Tor I have 
an important and agreeable message to give you.” 

“Important and agreeable!” she exclaimed, the light of 
hope causing her black eyes to glisten. “Nothing would 
give me greater pleasure next to having heard of the death 
of Lothair than that our way is now open to the throne after 
so much delay. Is your news in that line?” 

“You have guessed it. The business is now nn the way 
to secure the crown of Italy for myself and Adelbert.” 

“Oh, the delight of knowing this!” exclaimed Willa, 


— 64 — 


a flush of joy rising to her face. “What other steps have been 
taken in that direction?” 

“Yesterday there was a gathering here in Pavia of the 
representative men of the kingdom, and I made it plain to 
them that there were no heads that could justly wear the 
crown of Italy but Adelbert’s and mine. They saw the truth 
of this, and chose us as kings of Italy.” 

“Oh, what a triumph !” exclaimed his wife, almost beside 
herself with joy. “What a weight is lifted from my heart! 
The uncertainty has been so wearing upon us, has been so 
hard to bear. Now at last the aim long striven for is reached. 
At last you came to believe in my view of the case as to 
the best and quickest way to the throne of Italy. Lothair — 
but no! the dead cannot speak! Come, Adelbert, your 
mother must be first to embrace the young king of Italy, and 
to rejoice that a king’s crown is upon your head.” 

“Do not rejoice too soon, Willa,” advised Berengarius, and 
his forehead was darkened by some oppressive thought. “To 
wear the crown pleases me well, and is something over which 
one may rejoice, but as yet we do not know but some one will 
rise up and strive against us for it.” 

“Oh, it always suits you to cast shadows; with you we 
must always hear raven-croaks. My motto is death and 
destruction to whoever stands in our way. With this for 
a guide, what have we to fear?” 

“But let us handle this important question in a sensible 
manner. Not all the obstructions are yet put aside, and it is 
possible that some may rise that we do not expect. Our 
sudden good fortune will, no doubt, make enemies. With the 
death of Lothair one great obstacle fell out of the way; but 
remember that Adelheid is yet living. She considers herself, 
and not without reason, the rightful heir to the throne in 
place of her departed husband, and, no doubt, there are many 
in the kingdom who will be loyal to the beloved and wonder- 
fully beautiful young queen; and should she reach out her 
hand for the crown, our position will be far from certain.” 

“Then we must see that she does not make a demand for 
it by placing her in new circumstances, and I have thought 
of a plan.” 


— 65 


“I, too, have thought of one; perhaps it is the same 
as yours,’’ said her husband. 

‘^I, too, have considered a plan,” said Adelbert; ‘^and it 
is to marry the beautiful widow of Lothair; all trouble 
would then be at an end. I am willing to marry her, and 
believe I would have no trouble in winning her.” 

“That is exactly my plan,” agreed Willa. “We will go 
immediately to work to bring it about. You may depend 
upon me to smooth the way; you can count upon your 
mother.” 

“There is one thing that troubles me,” remarked the 
young man reflectively, “the curse of ugliness is upon my 
features. Lothair was exceptionally handsome. Adelheid 
will compare me with him, and these Burgundy people are 
self-willed and proud?’ 

“She will never refuse such a chance as this,” assured 
Willa. “You will be her choice above all others.” 

“Yes,” agreed Berengarius, “we can win her without 
trouble; but if she should prove rebellious, it will be time 
enough to use harsh measures, but not in view of the people, 
only in stillness and secrecy.” 

“Perhaps at the right time she will call to memory what 
happened to her husband,” remarked Willa with an evil smile, 
to which her husband agreed. 

“Adelheid knows nothing of what happened in Pavia. 
I will go, my son, and ask her hand for you.” 

An hour later Berengarius visited the residence of Queen 
Adelheid, and asked for an audience. She appeared im- 
mediately in the reception-room, and he was admitted and 
made his errand known. 

Adelheid gazed at him with a look of horror in her pale 
face, and for a time was unable to speak. 

“My heart is bowed down with grief for the loss of 
a beloved husband,” she said at length. “It is an insult to 
make such a proposition to me; it Alls me with loathing, 
and is a shock to my tenderest feelings, for it is well known 
to me who was responsible for my husband’s death.” 

“I am sorry that your Majesty has made the mistake of 

King Otto’s Crown. 5 


— 66 — 


listening to idle and foolish reports,” replied Berengarius 
with a look of injured innocence ; ^‘the gossip of people should 
have no weight with one of your high character. Now I ask 
you to remember that my son was made ruler over the king- 
dom of Italy; he offers you his hand, and it would be wise 
for you to accept.” 

Adelheid made no reply, but the look of abhorrence upon 
her face answered for her; and Berengarius left the palace 
in shame and anger. 


CHAPTER X. 

On Lake Garda. 

After the departure of Berengarius the young queen wept 
and sighed, completely abandoning herself to her grief; for 
not only was she filled with excitement over the unexpected 
visit, but tortured with anxiety, not knowing what revenge 
the father and son would visit upon her defenseless person. 

She was buried in thought as to whom she could apply to 
for protection, when Hedwig, always her comforter, came in. 

“Your Majesty,” said she tenderly, “I was in my room, the 
door was ajar, and I heard the conversation between you and 
the caller, and could see him; he has an evil countenance.” 

“You heard the offer of marriage to his son?” 

“Yes; and, oh! the look he cast at you when you ref used ; 
it was more like that of a beast of prey than that of a human 
being.” 

“I can expect nothing good of him nor of his godless 
wife,” sobbed Adelheid, “but what can I do to turn them from 
such a frightful scheme? I am entirely in his power, and 
what can turn a king from anything he has determined 
upon ?” 

“We must take to flight,” said Hedwig. “That is the 
only way of escape. A longer stay in Pavia would see you 
in prison.” 

“But where shall I go? Where can I find a place that 
is not upon the enemy’s soil? I can take no steps that will 
not be watched by the spies of Berengarius.” 


— 67 — 


“And for this reason there is the greatest need of haste. 
Before that tyrant and his wife can think of a plan to hinder 
your flight, we must turn our backs on Pavia.” 

“Listen, Hedwig! There is one place where we can go, 
and that is to my brother in Burgundy. With him I would 
be sure of protection; and, oh! my dear mother is there at 
this time.” Tears of joy took the place of tears of terror. 

“There is really no other place where you would be safe,” 
replied Hedwig, trembling with hope and expectation. “It 
surely is a long distance from Pavia to our cherished father- 
land, but we can walk it by resting on the way wherever 
we can find a hiding-place. Our first stopping-place would 
be Como. There no one would recognize us. By resting 
there, we will gain new strength to continue our journey. 
Compose yourself, your Majesty, while I gather some food 
and the few things we must have on our way.” 

That evening a spy was sent to the palace with an im- 
portant message for the queen. 

“She has gone out for a walk,” said the attendant at 
the door. 

“What direction did she take, and who accompanied her ?” 

“Only her favorite lady-in-waiting, and they went in the 
direction of Como.” 

The caller departed immediately upon receiving just the 
information he needed and expected. 

With delight Berengarius ordered a number of fully 
armed men on swift horses to follow the fugitives, the king’s 
displeasure to be visited upon them if they returned with- 
out her. 

In the mean time the queen and Hedwig had reached 
a forest where they intended to remain through the day, 
while they would travel at night. In the midst of a thicket 
they slept the sleep of exhaustion. 

Eefreshed, they started again on their way and after much 
privation and weariness they reached Como to find the gates 
of the walled city closed against them ; and horsemen waiting 
for them, who took them into custody. 

“I have an order from the king to take you back to 


— 68 — 


Pavia,” said the leader. Adelheid made no resistance, but 
tears of despair rolled down her pale cheeks. 

“This is a sad prospect for you, my Hedwig,” she said, 
speaking German, which the soldiers could not understand. 
“I cannot expect you to share my trials. I will have no 
unkind feeling against you if you do not wish to stay 
with me.” 

“Your otfer, my queen, does honor to you, but I cannot 
accept it. Five happy years have I been with you, and you 
have shown me all kindness in your power, as has also your 
dear mother when she was at the palace. No, I can never 
forget your goodness to me ; I could not live away from you.” 

“You true and faithful soul!” said the queen, kissing her. 
“Truly, how could I live without you?” 

The leader noticed the friendship between the two, and, 
not understanding such an attachment between a queen and 
her maid, thought it best to make an explanation. 

“I have no authority to take your maid back to Pavia,” 
he said; “she must leave you.” 

“The king will surely not do such a wicked thing as to 
forbid her coming with me,” exclaimed Adelheid, pale from 
fright ; “for years she has been my dear companion.” 

“I do not know what the king will say to her coming. 
I have no command to bring her. Do not hinder us any 
longer, as he will be angry at the delay” ; and he grasped the 
bridle of the queen’s horse to set out for Pavia. 

“Have pity on us!” cried Hedwig, weeping and holding 
out her hands to the horseman. “My beloved mistress needs 
me. Do not leave me here !” Grasping the bridle of his horse, 
she continued, “I will not let go until you say you will take 
me with you.” 

“Then I am compelled to use force to drive you away.” 

“Take your sword and kill me if you must; I would 
accept death as willingly as to be parted from my lady.” 

“You shall go with her. The king commanded me to 
bring Queen Adelheid, but did not command me to leave you. 
However, it makes some change in regard to the horses ; you 
cannot walk and keep up with us.” 


— 69 — 


This was done, and they turned in the direction of Pavia. 

It was late at night when they reached Pavia, and as the 
leader had not been told where to leave his prisoners, he took 
them to the castle of Berengarius, and to the queen’s grief 
and anxiety she found herself a prisoner in the power of 
a terrible tyrant and his covetous wife. 

She was surprised to see their friendly manner toward 
her, and she had the hope that they had repented of the 
distress they had given her in proposing a marriage with 
their son. 

“It was not kind in you to leave my protection,” said 
Berengarius in what was meant to be a hospitable tone. 
“It would have been terrible if you had met robbers on the 
way. You should have a protector at all times, and there 
is no one who would be more suitable than my son Adelbert ; 
I hope that you have decided to accept him.” 

“Be our dear daughter, Adelheid, and every earthly happi- 
ness .will be yours,” said Willa with her treacherous smile. 

But the young queen scorned the oifer, and the faces 
of husband and wife paled with anger. 

“If kindness has no effect, then we must use harsh 
measures”; and Berengarius struck her with such force 
that it was only with great effort that she kept from falling. 

“Will you do as we wish?” he exclaimed in a loud, 
rough voice, raising his hand as though about to strike her 
another blow. 

“No, I would rather die.” 

“Do you realize that you are entirely in our power?” 

“Yes, and you can poison me as you did my husband; then 
I will be out of your way.” 

“That is good advice,” he said, and beside himself with 
rage, he threw her roughly into an adjoining apartment, 
where she was really a prisoner, for the windows were barri- 
caded, and he locked the door. 

But there was one blessing left her for which she gave 
grateful thanks to God — Hedwig shared her prison, and 
together they wept and prayed. 

At midnight and in the darkness of a cloudy night a troop 


— 70 


of horsemen passe(^ through the gate of the walled city of 
Pavia. They were soldiers, well armed, wearing helmets and 
chain armors. In the center of the group rode two female 
figures, closely veiled and mantled, a soldier holding the 
bridle of each horse. 

As soon as the company passed into the open, they put 
the horses to a quick gait, and at the same time cast glances 
about them as if expecting attack from some quarter. 

They had traveled a long distance, when one of the 
soldiers spoke to the one nearest him. 

“I see no need of so much secrecy,” he said in a low tone, 
“on such a dark night as this there is not the least danger 
of meeting hindrances.” 

“No; I see no use in being so cautious; but we must 
obey orders. Perhaps there is a reason for secrecy greater 
than we know.” 

“If we only knew who these women are, and why they are 
so closely veiled, we might have some idea of the reason ; but 
we cannot catch the least glimpse of their faces. They have 
not spoken, except a few words, and in a language we cannot 
understand.” 

“Listen, comrade,” said the other, “I believe these women 
are Queen Adelheid and her maid, have you thought of this ?” 

“No; and if you wish to pass the rest of your life in 
a dark dungeon or have a dose of poison in you, I advise 
you to keep your thoughts to yourself. With this new king 
we must guard our tongues.” 

“If it were not the persons I speak of, why need our 
leader be so secret about it; and who but some distinguished 
person would have such a number of soldiers to guard them ?” 

His opinion was correct; the prisoners were Queen Adel- 
heid and Hedwig. A little before midnight they were 
awakened from their restless sleep, and taken out in the 
darkness of the night, they knew not where, the secrecy of 
it filling their hearts with terror. 

“Dark as this terrible night are my fears for the future,” 
said the queen in the German tongue as they rode along; 
“Berengarius and his wife Willa see in my marriage with 


— 71 


their son a strengthening of their not entirely secure claim 
to the throne. They know well that I have friends and 
adherents that would stand by me were I to assert my rights 
to it, and there is no doubt in my mmd that I, too, will dis- 
appear from the world’s stage as did my poor husband. It 
must be something of this kind that I am taken out at 
midnight and guarded by so many horsemen. It is all the 
work of that infamous tiger and his infamous wife.” 

“Take comfort in the thought, my queen, that your 
friends and adherents will not let this matter rest, but will 
come to your assistance.” 

“I cannot hope for it. Who will know where I am taken, 
or know that I am among the living? Berengarius and his 
wife will take care that no one will know where I am im- 
prisoned. 

“Berengarius is now owner of my castles and strongholds, 
and over all of them he has absolute authority.” 

. “If we cannot count upon man’s help, let us turn to God 
Almighty,” said Hedwig. “He has a thousand ways to help 
us of which man knows nothing, and can in His own good 
time deliver you from all your troubles.” 

“You are right, Hedwig. That is real trouble that prompts 
us to trust implicitly in God the All-wise and the almighty 
Helper. I will rely upon Him to do what is best for me.” 

At daylight the cavalcade halted for rest and food in 
a forest, and then resumed the journey. 

On the evening of the third day they reached a wild 
mountainous region. Great rocks reared their heads in the 
air, already damp from the mists of the. evening. They rode 
for more than a mile through a rocky path, and upon a high 
point of rocky land they saw the outlines of an ancient castle. 

“Now I know exactly where we are,” said a soldier to the 
one next to him. “It is Garda Castle, on Garda Lake, which 
is seven miles long.” 

“Do not betray your trust,” whispered his companion. 
“Eager ears are listening, and it may bear evil fruit to you. 
You know as well as I that we are threatened with heavy 
punishment if we speak of any events of this long and tedious 
journey.” 


— 72 — 


“It is Garda Castle,” whispered the queen to Hedwig. 
“I have heard and read of it; it is the most solitary and 
remote fortress in the kingdom. We will indeed have 
a dreary place to live hei’e, perhaps for life.” 

The keeper of the gate evidently knew of their coming. 
The gate was open, and the cavalcade passed into the court- 
/ yard, then through a dark passageway to the entrance to the 
castle, where the steward received them. 

The steward was a blinded servitor of the new king, and 
Adelheid knew that whatever commands he had received in 
regard to them would be followed. He received her with 
scant courtesy, and conducted her and Hedwig to her apart- 
ment. 

“You are from this evening on a prisoner of Castle 
Garda,” he said austerely, “and I have orders to hold you 
with rigid firmness. I have others to assist me if you rebel. 
It is an undeserved favor that the king allows you' to have 
your maid with you. Now follow me.” 

They passed down a long, narrow corridor, then down 
a long flight of steps into a small, musty room, the rough 
stone walls of which were moist, and with a stone floor. 
A small window near the vaulted ceiling spread a dim light. 
There was a rough wooden couch, two rough chairs, a table, 
and an earthen water- jug. 

“You can be very comfortable here,” the steward said, 
“much more so than you deserve for your refusal to marry 
the king’s son. Eood and drink will be brought to you, but 
you need not expect dainties, for you will not have them.” 

As the rough and heartless man left the place, the queen 
sank down upon the couch and wept bitterly, and Hedwig 
joined in her grief, which seemed hopeless of relief. 

“It adds to my sorrow to have you suffer here with me,” 
said Adelheid. “For all I know to the contrary, I may be 
imprisoned for life. I know that I should not expect you to 
stay with me, yet my heart chills at the thought of being 
alone.” 

“Can you imagine, my queen, that I could leave you? 
No; in life and death I am with you. What could I do if 


73 — 


I left you? I have no home nor any employment, so in 
remaining with you I am receiving as much favor as I am 
giving. Moreover, I am sure they would not let 'me go, 
knowing that I would betray your place of imprisonment if 
set free.” 

Hedwig, I thank God for the comfort you have always 
been to me,” replied the queen gratefully. ^‘This place will 
not seem like a prison if you are with me.” 

Long they conversed that evening of the happy days 
when King Lothair was living and they were so happy 
together, and the time did not pass so heavily. But there 
were days when Adelheid wept and prayed for deliverance 
from the dark and dreary place, and Hedwig would weep 
with her. 

One day the rusty key grated in the lock, the door opened, 
and the chaplain of the castle entered the dimly lighted 
apartment. He was young, strong in frame, and tall in 
stature, and, oh! to the joy of the queen and Hedwig was 
able to speak German as well as Italian. 

His cheerful voice and manner were like a sunbeam in the 
somber room, and gave a ray of hope to the lonely, helpless 
women, who had seen no one from the outside world since 
their imprisonment. 

“My name is Martin,” he said, “and I am chaplain in 
Garda Castle. It is my duty and pleasure to visit any 
prisoners in the castle, and give them the comfort of our 
blessed Christian religion. It was some time before I could 
persuade the steward to allow me to visit you, but at last 
he gave permission, and so I was free to come.” 

His visit was a benediction to them; an angel’s visit 
could have been scarcely more welcome. His hearty cheer- 
fulness gave them courage, and they felt that they had at 
least one friend in the world. 

After giving them the blessed comfort of Christ’s own 
words, he engaged in conversation about worldly affairs; of 
his experiences in life outside and in Garda Castle, and time 
passed swiftly as he talked. Bidding them good-by, he 
promised to call again, leaving them more cheered and hope- 
ful than they had thought possible. 


74 — 


CHAPTEK XI. 

Garda Castle. 

The imprisonment of Queen Adelheid, which Berengarius 
and his wife supposed to be a secret known only to them- 
selves, was soon spread abroad in Italy, and after a little 
time reached Germany. 

Early in the summer of 951 Duke Henry of Bavaria came 
to visit his brother. King Otto, who was at that time at his 
castle at Merseburg, and to tell him of what had happened 
at Pavia, in Italy. 

They had heard of the death of King Lothair and the 
imprisonment of the helpless young queen, and they had 
known for years of the rapacious Berengarius and his vicious 
wife, who had been working to secure the crown of Italy, 
and would not stop at crime to gain their end. 

Long and earnestly the brothers conversed about the 
doings in Italy. 

“Lothair was in the way of Berengarius,” remarked Duke 
Henry, “and he is strongly suspected of ending the poor 
young king’s life. Queen Adelheid is in his way, and he 
knows that, as long as she lives, the crown upon his head 
is far from secure ; and her imprisonment bodes evil for her.” 

“He intends, without doubt, to keep her a prisoner for 
life,” rejoined King Otto. “Our father was always on the 
best of terms with Burgundy, and it is my duty to protect 
the hapless queen and not leave her to her fate. I will with- 
out delay call together the representative men of my king- 
dom, and lay the case before them.” 

“I would, and you will find that to a man they will be 
with you heart and soul.” 

“Our father. King Henry, as you know, always had 
a longing to bring Italy, the Koman Empire, back to all the 
splendor which reigned there in the days of our great fore- 
father, Charles the Great, Charlemagne; perhaps the oppor- 
tunity has come to fulfil this desire.” 

“It is just the time,” rejoined Duke Henry. “Now, Otto, 
act quickly, and reach that long-wished-for aim. Make 
Adelheid your wife; it has been four years since your loved 


— 75 — 


Editha passed away, and you are but forty years of age. 
To the difference in your age and hers, I am sure, she will 
not object. She will not only give you her hand, but her 
heart. You will win not only a beautiful and loving wife,, 
but the kingdom of Italy; and she will win not only a faith- 
ful husband, but a powerful protector.” 

“Berengarius has no thought of help from this quarter; 
I will be glad to show him his mistake,” remarked the king 
reflectively. > 

“Of course, he will struggle to , retain the crown, but his 
opposition to you will be of no avail. I will exert my every 
power to aid you to extinguish him.” 

“You have suggested something that has reason for 
a foundation, and I thank you for it. Now Kabald, what 
do you think of Duke Henry’s proposition ?” he said, turning 
to his chamberlain. 

“I agree entirely with his Highness Duke Henry. You 
have had suggestions for marriage from different quarters, 
but your kingdom and its interests were uppermost in your 
mind; its power and greatness were your supreme con- 
sideration.” 

“Adelheid’s beauty and piety are everywhere spoken of,” 
remarked Duke Henry. “Happy will it be for you to win 
her love and, with her, the inheritance of the throne of King 
Lothair of Italy.” 

“You have for years been a good friend and wise counselor 
to me, Henry, and have caused me to forget all that you once 
intended against me. In the stillness of my church I will 
ask God’s blessing upon what will come to pass, if it be 
His will. Now, through the representative men of the king- 
dom we will call an army together for the release of the young 
queen from prison ; and the duty devolves upon you, Kabald, 
to call upon them to raise an army.” 

“This I will do joyfully,” said the chamberlain. “I will 
send messengers through the length and breadth of the 
German kingdom, to the governors of the cities, to the 
military leaders, and to all others that should be notified, 
informing them of a gathering-place.” 


— 76 — 


This was done, and enthusiasm filled every German heart. 
They realized the glory that would come to their realm should 
they release the lonely young queen of Italy from the power 
of a tyrannical oppressor. 

Swords, clubs, battle-axes, lances, spears, arrows, helmets, 
and chained armors of mail were jubilantly prepared for 
the march across the Alps into Italy. 

No one was more interested in the affair than was Ludolph, 
the son of Otto, who in 948 had been made Duke of Swabia. 
He hurried to Merseburg to see his father, and hear of the 
gathering of an army to battle for the liberation of Queen 
Adelheid. He was also anxious to see his dear friend Hilde- 
ward, and tell him of a plan by which the queen could be 
liberated before the army could be collected and wished his 
friend to join with him. 

This twenty-year-old duke was never forgetful that his 
life had been saved by that faithful friend Hildeward, and 
he loved him for his real and true friendship, his agreeable 
and cheering society, and his clear reasoning in matters 
which he could not decide for himself. When their views 
differed, he felt no resentment, no wounded pride or irri- 
tation that Hildeward advised against his plans. 

In this new plan he certainly did admonish, with all the 
strength he could put into his words, against such a sense- 
less scheme. 

“My dear friend,’^ said Prince Ludolph, the moment they 
were alone, “I have a splendid plan in view for which I want 
your help; I want you to join me in collecting an army and 
march across the Alps to the Garda Castle and free Queen 
Adelheid from prison.’^ 

“How could your Highness do this?” asked Hildeward 
quietly, not wishing to dampen the young man’s enthusiasm 
until he had heard the whole story. 

“You do not seem to enter joyously into it, as I expected,” 
continued Ludolph, “but I have this confidence in you that 
you will not be against me if you cannot help me, and will 
not divulge what I am about to tell you, and so I will speak 
to you openly and candidly. 


— 77 — 


“After consulting with distinguished friends of mine, 
I have decided to go with a small company of Swabian 
soldiers to Italy and free the queen before my father can 
collect his army. I know that my zeal and well-accomplished 
plan will surprise and delight my father, and save him much 
expense and trouble. He will be proud to call me his son, 
and more than that, the world will praise my valor. My 
father cannot collect an army and march to Garda Castle 
before the last of September, and long before that the work 
will all be done, and the queen will be free. Now I expect 
you to join with me, and share my work and the honor that 
will be ours.” 

“Forgive me, my dear and honored Prince Ludolph. 
I really could not join in this undertaking, and I wish you 
would not think of it. It would not surprise and please your 
father, but would shame and anger him. Do not let your 
youthful zeal lead you into such a foolish attempt, which 
would end in regret to yourself.” 

“But how could it end that way? I will take good care 
to make it a success. Come with me, Hildeward. You will 
be sorry when you find people applauding my great deed.” 

“Berengarius will get word of your intention, my gracious 
duke, and will collect a much larger army than yours. He is 
on the spot, while you are far away, and will be weary from 
the hardships entailed in crossing the Alps. It would be 
a failure, and do great injury to the queen’s cause.” 

“I see that you are opposed to it,” said Prince Ludolph, 
greatly disappointed, “but I will not change my plans. 
I know that your advice is well meant, but this time your 
objections are useless. The scheme has taken deep root in 
my mind, and a great number of friends and adherents are 
eager to have me undertake it. I would be very much pleased 
to see you go with me, and I hope that of your own free will 
you will change your mind. But in any case, my father must 
know nothing of it, at least not until we are on our way to 
Italy.” 

“Did you let your uncle, Duke Henry of Bavaria, into 
the secret?” 


“No; nor must he be given a hint of it. We have, as 
you may have noticed, not the love for each other that one 
should expect of near relatives. He always makes objections 
to my plans, and I get angry. He wishes to play the part 
of guardian over me, and looks upon me as an irresponsible 
boy. He forgets that I am Duke of Swabia and the only 
heir to the German crown.” 

Hildeward’s spirits brightened at hearing this, for he 
believed that the foolish plan would come to the knowledge 
of Dulve Henry, and that thus the disaster would be averted. 
But there was no time for further discussion, for a servant 
came to tell him that the king wished him to come to his 
apartment. 

“I have an important commission for you, Hildeward,” 
he said, “a commission that will prove my confidence in you. 
As it is not possible to send my army to Italy before the last 
of September, I feel that Queen Adelheid should know that 
she is to be released from her prison. It will give her hope 
and be a bright spot in her dreary life there; and I have 
chosen you to take the message to her. Your sagacity and 
prudence will be called into play on this errand, and I feel 
confident that you will be successful. A failure would cause 
her to be secretly removed to another place. She is now 
at Garda Castle, which overlooks Garda Lake, and the place 
is strictly guarded; therefore it will be no easy task to get 
my message into her own hands. Now I ask you if you 
are willing to undertake this difficult, perhaps dangerous 
mission.” 

With real delight Hildeward accepted the charge, such 
an adventure being a joy to his energetic nature. But above 
all was he pleased to see that King Otto put so much con- 
fidence in him; it was an acknowledgment of his ability. 
He therefore gratefully thanked him for selecting him for 
such an important mission. 

“You must have some one as protector on the long 
journey,” said the king, “and I will leave it to you to choose 
whomsoever you wish.” 

“I am sure I will not need protection, my gracious king, 


— 79 — 


but I would be glad to have the company of my uncle Gozbert. 
His experience and his fearlessness are a tonic to any one.” 

“An excellent selection,” commented the king heartily, 
^‘the old hunter will be a help in every way.” 

Uncle Gozbert’s heart thrilled with delight at the prospect 
of a journey to Italy. “Yes,” he said, “with my hearths love, 
Hildeward, I would travel through thick and thin to the 
end of the world.” 

There were no great preparations to be made for the 
journey, and on the second day they set out, well armed, 
upon strong horses, and bearing a letter from King Otto 
to Queen Adelheid. A pack of food and clothing was loaded 
on each horse. 

The journey was not an easy one, for there were no roads. 
Their way led through briars, and rocks, morass and mire, 
and dense forests, and the horses carried them over deep 
streams and brooks, bridges being scarce. When night came, 
they frequently had no place to sleep except beside the trunk 
of a fallen tree, or sometimes on deep grass. At times they 
would find a cave large enough to accommodate both, which 
was a welcome retreat. The horses would be tethered close 
by. Very rarely they reached a huntsman^s cabin, where 
they were cordially welcomed, or a deserted cloister, where 
they had a long night’s sleep and rest. 

Frequently, in forests, they were compelled to pass the 
night in a tree to escape the wolves, bears, or other wild 
animals. Nevertheless, they cheerfully continued their 
journey, their aim always in mind. 

“In spite of all difficulties they, in the early part of July, 
found themselves on Italian soil, and it was not a difficult 
task to find Garda Castle. At evening, on a rainy day, they 
found themselves in sight of it, and in a fisherman’s cabin, 
on the shore of the lake, they found shelter for the night. 

They would have been glad to listen to some information 
in regard to the castle, but the fisherman could not under- 
stand a word of German nor they of Italian; so there was’ 
nothing to be learned of him. 

They soon realized that to deliver the king’s letter into 


80 — 


Queen Adelheid’s hand was the most difficult part of the 
undertaking, and when several days had passed, they saw 
themselves no nearer the aim than on the first day. 

“We must try another plan if we are to accomplish any- 
thing,” said Gozbert after three days of watching, searching, 
lying in wait, and exploring. “I have thought of a plan 
to get myself into the castle. To-morrow I will stir up 
a quarrel with the four men who go with a mule-cart to buy 
food and other things for the castle. It would be a light 
job to fight them all, but I will let them arrest me, and take 
me a prisoner to the castle-prison. I will at least be inside 
the place and may see something that may be in our favor. 
If they seem on the point of killing me, then you can come, 
and I will let them see what a German sword or German 
fists can do.” 

“But the letter, uncle! Would it not be dangerous to 
take it into the castle with you in case you are searched?” 

“Yes, it will be better to leave it with you. You may have 
a chance to get the letter into the queen’s hand; if not, we 
will feel that we have done all in our power, and the queen 
will have to remain in prison until the king’s troops come 
to release her.” 

“But, uncle, it will be of no advantage to you to be 
a prisoner, and, perhaps, to be thrust into a dark dungeon; 
that would be terrible for a man of your age. Let me be 
the one to be arrested.” 

“No! I would suffer the anguish of death to know that 
you were a prisoner in a dungeon; but we will let destiny 
or chance decide for us by leaving it to blades of grass.” 

He took a long and a short one, and putting one in each, 
hand behind his back, he said, “Bight or left for the long 
blade?” 

“Eight,” said Hildeward, and it was his place to attack 
the mule-drivers. 

“I will be near you,” said Gozbert, “and if I see that there 
is danger of your being overpowered, I will come on them like 
a hail-storm. If they arrest you and take you into the 
castle, I will keep still, and pray the Lord to protect you.” 


— BI- 


AS soon as the plan was decided upon, and while waiting 
for a cart to pass by, Hildeward told his uncle of the 
exploit which young Prince Ludolph had in view. 

“Watch for him, uncle, as he may be here at any time. 
I strongly advised against it, but my warning had no effect 
upon him. He will be in great danger. Pray for his safety, 
and protect him as well as you can.” 

“I promise you, for that boy is the pride of many hearts. 
He is a hot-headed, blustering youth, but noble at heart and 
beloved of all Germany. Rest assured that I will protect him 
at the risk of my own life. The foolish, foolish boy to imag- 
ine that he can free the queen from such a man as Beren- 
garius !” 

Shortly before the time the cart was to pass by on its 
daily errand, the two secreted themselves behind a rock and 
upon its return, when the cart was loaded with provisions 
and fruit, Hildeward sprang out' and made a feint of robbery. 
He was immediately attacked by the four men, whom he 
fought off, then, apparently overpowered, was made a prisoner 
and taken into the' castle as a spy. 

“Search him,” said the steward. “Let not a fold of his 
clothes escape your notice.” 

This was done, but nothing was found as the king’s 
letter was in Gozbert’s possession. 

“There was no reason to think him a spy,” said the 
steward; “but he deserves to be a prisoner for trying to rob 
the cart. A spy would not be likely to attack mule-drivers. 
Say, youngster, what have you to say for yourself?” 

Hildeward made an answer, but it was not understood by 
any of the Italians waiting to hear. 

“To all appearances the boy is a German. Does he not 
know the danger of coming to this land at this time ? I wish 
I could understand his language ; I would like to have a talk 
with him. The chaplain talks to the queen in some foreign 
language, which may be German. Through the queen’s 
maid I can find out if this boy is a German.” 

Hedwig was summoned, and the delight of brother and 
sister after their long separation was past expression; and 

King Otto’s Crown. 6 


— 82 — 


quickly he gave her from memory the full and correct 
message of the king. Then for a moment he could chat 
of their own affairs. 

The steward saw that they were really brother and sister, 
and was satisfied. How the brother had learned that his 
sister was a prisoner at Castle Garda he had not taken into 
consideration. 

The moment the steward told Hedwig to return to her 
cell, she fled with the joyful news that King Otto would bring 
an army to free the queen; and their dungeon grew bright 
with this gladdening assurance. 

Hildeward realized that he, too, would be a prisoner until 
released by King Otto; but his only regret was that he 
could not see his uncle Gozbert, and tell him that the queen 
had received the message. 


CHAPTER XII. 

The Haunted Tower. 

In the weeks that had passed since Queen Adelheid and 
Hedwig were prisoners in Garda Castle, the chaplain visited 
their dungeon as often as he could without neglecting any 
of his many duties. He had deep sympathy for them in 
their helpless condition, and did all in his power to cheer 
them with the assurance that God was watching over them, 
and in His own good time would liberate them. 

He not only encouraged them, but watched for an oppor- 
tunity to help them to gain their freedom. 

^‘Hear friend,” said Adelheid one day, “do you really 
think it not possible for us to be freed from this terrible 
imprisonment? You are so kind to us that I am sure you 
would be glad to see us free, and are so considerate and 
resourceful that you surely can see some way to help us 
to escape.” 

“I would gladly help, did I see any possible way ; but this 
castle is so secure as to walls, doors, and windows that it 
is simply impossible to escape through them ; and since your 


— 83 — 


Majesty’s coining the number of sentinels has been increased 
to such an extent that a cat could not pass in or out without 
being noticed. The steward is a faithful servitor of King 
Berengarius, and is watchful at every point. But do not be 
discouraged; something may occur to our advantage, and 
I will be on the lookout for it.” 

‘^Are not soldiers held as prisoners here who might be 
willing to help you to get us out?” asked Hedwig. 

“Child, consider what you are saying! Whom would I 
dare entrust with such an undertaking? Should they betray 
us, the king would soon hear of it, and our heads would not 
be long upon our shoulders. Just think of the many sentinels 
that surround this castle!” 

“Could not a wall in an obscure part of the castle be 
broken through, large enough for us to pass out?” asked the 
queen tearfully. 

“It might be done, your Majesty, with the help of some 
one of the men whom one dare trust. But what could be done 
with the heap of stones and mortar which would not fail 
to be seen by sentinels outside and guards inside the castle ?” 

Hedwig said nothing in reply, but the thought that came 
to her was, “If I were a man, I would find a way.” 

Several days passed, and the subject was not mentioned 
again until a few days before the coming of Hildeward with 
the joyful news that they were to be liberated by King Otto, 
when one day the chaplain came at an unaccustomed hour 
to the queen’s dungeon, looking pale and anxious. 

“I have some sad news for you, gracious queen,” he said. 
“I would gladly spare you the anxiety, but it cannot be kept 
a secret.” 

“You frighten me, Martin,” and her pale, lovely face 
grew paler; “but tell me whatever it may be; I can bear it. 
Any change would be better than this terrible dungeon.” 

“An hour ago I was in a small room that adjoins the 
apartment of the steward. A messenger sent by King 
Berengarius was announced. The door being slightly ajar, 
I heard the conversation, and it made my blood run cold. 
The king’s orders were that you be kept a prisoner for life. 


84 — 


and that the steward and his wife are to supply you with 
only the most necessary things, as in prison you would require 
very little. The king added that he placed full confidence in 
the steward to obey his orders implicitly. Then, in return, 
the king was sent a message by the steward to the effect that 
he would do exactly as commanded, and asked if he wished 
the queeiTs maid and her spiritual adviser retained; for 
if so, he believed that the queen’s imprisonment would be 
greatly shortened. The messenger promised to lay the matter 
before the king and report as soon as* possible.” 

The queen wrung her hands in despair, and Hedwig wept 
in anguish of mind. 

“A reply cannot reach the steward before three weeks,” 
continued Martin, “and in that time a way may be opened 
for escape.” 

The queen, however, was hopeless. 

“Do not despair, gracious lady. We have no reason 
to give up hope; on the contrary, we must seriously think 
of ways and means of escape. I am ready to risk my life 
to save you from enduring this shameful treatment, and 
I believe that God will show us a way.” 

The morning before Hildeward was arrested and brought 
into the castle, the chaplain came with a happy expression 
upon his face to tell the queen and Hedwig that he had 
found a means of escape. He did not deny that the plan 
was fraught with danger, but by the help of the Almighty, 
and if they were cautious and persevering, it might be done. 

“Speak, speak ! Tell us all about it !” said the queen, her 
face fiushing with delight, while Hedwig’s eyes were filled 
with tears of joy. 

“As you know, in the capacity of chaplain I am at liberty 
to go over the castle and have keys to the prisoners’ rooms. 
I searched the walls for a place where the stones might be 
removed, but found none. In the courtyard, however, in 
a remote corner, there is an ancient tower, almost in a state 
of collapse. It was built in pagan times, and it has long 
ago outlived its usefulness. Going through it, I found that 
in one of the basement-rooms, used in early times as a cellar. 


— 85 — 


there is a place where the wall might be broken through, 
which would let one out on the bank of the lake. The old 
tower is not guarded, neither from the castle nor from 
outside. The best of it is that its walls are of sandstone, 
and it will not be much trouble to break through them.” 

“O the joy of seeing a hope of escape from the power of 
the man who murdered my husband, and would do the same 
by me,” said Adelheid, clasping her hands in thanksgiving. 

“I really see reason for great hope,” said the chaplain 
cheerfully, “and I will mention another point in our favor. 
In this tower there is at intervals a subterranean sound, like 
a groan or a long-drawn sigh, and sometimes a rushing sound 
as of huge wings. Of course, the servants and even the 
steward believe it to be haunted, and will not go near it night 
or day, which is greatly in our favor. Of course, the sounds 
are easily accounted for. No doubt, there is running water 
under the flooring, which causes the rushing, roaring, and 
groaning; the moaning and whistling may be accounted 
for in 'the same way. 

“This superstitious belief kept the old tower from being 
demolished, which is of great advantage just now, for it will 
keep all interlopers at a safe distance while the wall is 
being broken.” 

“O Martin, dear friend, can you really do this to help 
us out of prison? Have you the strength needed for such 
a task?” 

“God will give me strength”; and his fine eyes beamed 
with enthusiasm and energy, while the queen and Hedwig 
felt almost happy at the prospect of being free. 

The next day was the day of Hildeward’s arrest and the 
happy meeting of brother and sister, as well as the giving 
of the message for the queen. Their dear friend, the 
chaplain, was told all when he made his next visit. 

“There is no need now of your exerting yourself to break 
an opening into the wall,” said the queen cheerfully. “The 
powerful ruler of the German kingdom will meet Berengarius 
with a great army; he will be overpowered, and we will be 


— 86 


free. We can well endure the few weeks we must stay here 
when we need not look forward to life-imprisonment.” 

“Your Majesty must not be deterred by this good news 
from making the effort to escape,” he said. “No doubt, the 
noble German king will carry out his great-hearted plan, but 
the danger to you is in no way set aside; rather it is 
greatly increased.” 

“How can that be?” inquired Adelheid, her sweet face 
taking on the look of care and anxiety which for a little 
while had left it. 

“It cannot be long concealed from Berengarius what the 
German king is intending to do, and you would be taken 
from here secretly, and not to any public place or well-known 
castle, but to some hidden spot, where it would be imi)ossible 
to trace you.” 

“The chaplain is right,” said Hedwig with pale lips; 
“we must not stay here.” 

“It is only in quick flight that your Majesty can expect 
safety,” rejoined the chaplain. “The walls of this castle must 
be at our backs before Berengarius has time to send you 
to another place. In four or six days, I hope, we will be on 
the way to freedom; for I, too, must flee, as I am already 
suspected by the steward, as evinced by his message to the 
king, and I would suffer from the ax of the executioner. 
I feel certain that God will bless our efforts to escape.” 

“He has already blessed us,” said Hedwig, “by sending 
my brother Hildeward; he is young and strong and will 
gladly help.” 

“He, too, will get his freedom by helping you,” said the 
chaplain. “I will visit him in my capacity as spiritual ad- 
viser, and tell him of my plans.” 

It seemed to Hedwig the escape was assured because 
Hildeward could assist the chaplain, and her good spirits 
cheered the queen. 

“I was especially fortunate this morning, while searching 
the old tower, to find a stone slab not too large and heavy 
for me to remove with a lever,” continued the chaplain. 
“I raised it and found it covered an orifice which in early 


— 87 — 


times had been a fountain and was a subterranean opening 
into the lake, and the water flowing in and out caused the 
moaning and rumbling which alarms the inmates of the 
castle. The finding of it is of great advantage, for in its 
great depth can be thrown all the rubbish from the broken 
wall.” 

The next day, when the chaplain made his daily visits to 
the prisoners, he gave Hildeward a full account of his plan. 
The young man listened with strict attention. He saw the 
extreme need of the queen’s being liberated, and with her 
his sister, the chaplain, and himself. He was impatient 
for night to come on, that they might commence their work 
on the wall. 

During the day the chaplain secured a pike, a crow-bar, 
an ax, and a pine torch, and a covering for the doorway to 
keep the dim light from being seen outside. 

Hedwig was to keep watch inside the door-covering, to 
give warning if there were danger ahead, and a signal for 
the work to cease. 

“I really think there is no danger of being discovered,” 
said the chaplain, “for, the wind being high to-night, there 
will be less likelihood of the pounding and boring being 
noticed ; yet it will give us a feeling of security to know that 
a good friend is keeping guard over us.” 

Cautiously and silently the three left their rooms, crept 
from the castle, and crossed the courtyard to the old tower. 
They felt it to be another divine blessing that the night was 
dark, moonless, and cloudy. 

The chaplain had provided a rope, with a stone securely 
tied at one end of it, which they were to take to the cellar 
room, and the other end of the rope was held in Hedwig’s 
hand. If there seemed to be any danger, she would draw 
the rope as a signal to cease working. Hildeward handled 
the tools with a skill and energy that surprised the chaplain, 
who was kept busy carrying away the rubbish and dropping 
it down the opening, the noise not being heard because of 
the roaring of the wind. 

On those short August nights they could work but an 


— 88 — 


hour with safety, which would make it necessary to work 
at least five nights, judging by what they had accomplished 
in one. But they were not discouraged. 

They had been employed but half an hour when Hedwig 
heard the sound of a man’s footsteps, and she drew the rope 
while all three listened. 

“Now what do you suppose is making that noise in the 
tower?” asked one of the sentinels of another. “I have never 
heard that sound before.” 

“The evil spirits in the walls are weary of the groaning 
and moaning and are trying pounding. This is the first 
time we' have heard them, and it is not so frightful as the 
groans.” 

“It makes my hair stand up on my head with terror when 
I hear them, for we do not know what harm they can do.” 

Long before dawn Martin and Hildeward ceased their 
work, and the three glided through the corridors to their 
cells without being discovered. 

Martin dropped into slumber immediately, but was 
awakened at an early hour by a messenger of the castle 
bringing him a request from the steward, which he received 
with anxiety, believing that the work in the tower had been 
discovered. His limbs trembled, for he knew the stern 
keeper’s regard for duty, and also knew the penalty of treason 
to the king. 

“I sent for you,” said the steward the moment he ap- 
peared, “to tell you that the sentinels report that there were 
sounds in the old tower that have never before been heard.” 

“What kind of sounds?” asked the chaplain, his heart 
thumping so fiercely that he feared the steward would 
notice it. 

“It is a pounding, grating, and hammering; and it is 
my duty to see that the cause be removed. The evil spirits 
must be exorcized, as it is my duty to see that nothing to 
shock the senses has possession of the ghost tower.” 

“Have you been there to see for yourself where the 
sound was located?” 

“Not I ; you must go with me, chaplain ; a godless spirit 


— 89 — 


will not come near a spiritual man like you, while it would 
have no respect for me, nor for any one in the castle. Come 
with me, with your spiritual coat of mail, which they will 
not touch. You will be a protection to me.” 

Martin could not see for a moment any way out of this 
difficulty, and a cold moisture was on his forehead; but the 
Lord had come to his aid in many emergencies, and he be- 
lieved it would not fail him now. Apparently willing, he 
agreed to go. 

“But,” said he, after taking a few steps, “should we not, , 
upon reflection, be satisfied that the tormented spirits remain 
in their own haunts, and never invade the castle to frighten 
us? Will it not be better to keep peace with them by being 
willing to allow them to change their manner of complaining ? 
The pounding and hammering are no more disagreeable to 
listen to than the sighs and groans and roaring; and we 
should make no effort to disturb them, but let them alone in 
their old tower.” 

This accorded exactly with the opinion of the steward. 
He did not have to risk an invasion of those quarters of 
the tormented spirits. The chaplain, too, was satisfied that 
there would be no need of Hedwig’s watching; for the new 
way the evil spirits were showing their power increased the 
terror of the ghost tower with every attendant at the castle. 

On the fourth evening of their work upon the wall, 
though it was very thick, the opening was large enough for 
Hildeward to put his feet through, and they felt that 
they had made fair progress. It was easier work than at 
first, although their hands were blistered from the un- 
accustomed toil. 

But this was of small consideration, the chaplain’s only 
worry being how to keep his hands out of sight of the steward, 
so that no awkward questions difficult to answer might be 
asked. It had been no small task to take the refuse to the 
vault, but he did it gladly, as the release of the young Italian 
queen was his earnest concern, and an aching back, which 
deprived him of sleep, 'was of small consideration. 

In the fifth night they succeeded in making the orifice 


— 90 


large enough to allow the queen’s and Hedwig’s slender bodies 
to slip through. But for the chaplain’s well-proportioned 
form and Hildeward’s broad shoulders much more stone and 
mortar would have to be removed. On the morning of the 
sixth day the chaplain gave the queen and Hedwig the 
welcome news that they could that night pass through the 
outlet into freedom. 

“Have everything ready for your flight,” he said to 
Hedwig. “I will call for you. Hildeward is on the watch 
outside the wall, and by God’s blessing we will turn our 
backs on Garda Castle and by daylight be out of sight of it.” 

“We can go to Beggio,” whispered the queen, her beauti- 
ful face radiant with joy. “There lives the noble Bishop 
Adelard, who will help us to reach whatever place he and 
you decide upon as being a safe retreat.” 

The night of the twentieth of August was especially 
favorable for the escape. A high wind was raging around 
the great castle, and the ^veather-vanes on the towers rattled 
and screeched like the evil spirits supposed to be in the 
ghost tower. An hour after midnight, Martin quietly un- 
locked the doors of the two cells, and the three glided silently 
through the corridors and out of a seldom used small door 
into the courtyard and the ghost tower. 

Martin bore on his shoulders a sack, in which were the 
provisions he could secure, and other necessary articles, 
among them a cowl, a doublet, and a suit of soldier’s clothes. 
A stiletto was in his belt, and a sword at his side, of which 
he could make expert use. Hildeward also had a sack upon 
his shoulders in which were the belongings of Queen Adelheid 
and Hedwig, and of his own possessions there was the iron 
spike used in breaking through the wall, which could be used 
as a weapon if needed. 

They went through the oriflce without difficulty, and, oh! 
the joy it gave to the queen and Hedwig to breathe the air 
of freedom. As they passed down the rocky and steep path 
that led to the lake, Hildeward lent his strength to the 
safety of the queen, while the chaplain took care of Hedwig. 

The fugitives did not halt in their walk until at daylight 


— 91 


they reached a dense forest, where Hildeward found hiding- 
places for the queen and her maid, and, not far from them, 
places for themselves, where, totally exhausted, they slept 
the whole day. 

In the mean time, it was also daylight at the castle and 
the servants were astir, but as the queen took breakfast when 
the day was quite advanced, the escape was not known until 
the sun had for several hours enlivened the earth with 
its beams. 

It was the old deaf male servant who always took the 
morning meal to Queen Adelheid and Hedwig that found 
the dungeon empty, and as quickly as he could he made the 
escape known. 

“It is impossible !’’ exclaimed the steward, pale with 
fright. “You must be beside yourself!” He ran to the 
queen’s apartment, found it deserted, and the two cots un- 
touched. 

It could not happen unless one or more of the sentinels 
had been traitors to the king. No; it must be an evil stroke 
of magic, as they would not risk their lives when they could 
gain nothing thereby. 

He gave the customary signal, and the sentinel on the 
tower gave forth mighty tones from the horn to summon the 
soldiers of that fortified stronghold to gather in the court- 
yard. 

From all directions they hastened to the steward; for 
such a signal meant that there must be no delay. One of 
the soldiers hurried to the room of Hildeward, and as quickly 
returned. 

“The German prisoner is gone,” he said in real distress 
of mind. 

“You scoundrel!” thundered the steward. “Where were 
you when he escaped?” 

“I locked his room, as I always do, and it was locked 
when I went to give him his breakfast,” replied the 
frightened guard. 

The same report came from the guard of the queen’s cell ; 


— 92 — 


the door was locked, but she and Hedwig were not to be 
found. 

Every corner of the castle was searched to find the queen, 
but without success. 

^‘Eun to the chaplain’s room, and tell him to come and 
give me advice as to what is best to be done.” 

The guard went, but came back with the report that the 
chaplain w^as not within, and the bed untouched. 

This w^as an astonishing discovery. The chaplain was 
not a prisoner, why should he run away? The steward sent 
men in all directions to search for him, but all returned 
without bringing any knowledge of him. 

“Have you looked in the ghost tower ?” the steward asked. 

“Ho; he would not go there. He is just as much afraid 
of it as we are. There was no use to look in there.” 

“Cowards, poltroons! Come with me, or it will cost your 
heads. The ghost tower must be searched!” 

Saying this, he went with them to the tower, but all 
of them crossed themselves, and asked the protection of 
the Virgin. 

The moment they entered, the moaning and roaring was 
heard, and they would have fied, had they not feared the 
steward’s anger. He, too, halted, but kept on his way, and 
descended to the lower room. There he saw the big hole 
in the wall. 

“There is where they escaped,” he said. “The chaplain 
and that German coxcomb made that hole, and the queen 
and her maid escaped. That pious sneak and hypocrite 
Martin helped them do the work. I could dash my head 
against the wall for not suspecting him when he explained 
to me that the change in the sounds heard in the tower was 
as pleasant as the groaning, and that it would be better to 
have them remain there than to invade the castle. That was 
a ruse to keep us all away, so that they might accomplish 
their work.” 

“Ho not worry about it, steward,” said one of the guards. 
“Had the evil spirits not been in the tower, the prisoners 
would still be in their cells. It was the evil spirits that 


— 93 — 


helped them,” and he crossed himself, “or how could Chaplain 
Martin and that boy carry away all the stone and mortar 
that come from that great hole in the wall? You see no 
sign of it.” 

“You are right, and this is a comfort to me; against the 
power of evil spirits we poor souls have no power. But we 
are wasting time,” and he ran up to the courtyard to consult 
with the men whom the tower sentinel had summoned with 
the horn. 

“Mount your horses immediately, and hurry off to find the 
prisoners! They cannot be far away. It would be nearly 
morning before they could start, and the queen is not used 
to walking. Divide in four companies, and go in different 
directions. The one lucky enough to find the queen will 
receive a liberal reward. Hurry, men! In less than fifteen 
minutes you must be scouring the country in search of the 
fugitives.” 

The men rushed to the stalls for their horses, and in 
less time than had been given them they were galloping down 
the steep, narrow path that led from the castle, and as soon 
as they had reached the level ground, they sped away in 
every direction. 

When they returned in the evening, they were compelled 
to report that they had seen nothing of the four, and could 
suggest no way to search further. The steward realized that 
he must report to the king, who was now at Verona, of the 
escape, and must go himself instead of sending a messenger. 

As was to be supposed, Berengarius was beside himself 
with rage. 

“She may have gone to Reggio,” he said when he had 
grown a little calmer. “Bishop Adelard lives there, and they 
are great friends. I will send my soldiers there, and have 
them search the fields and forests; they cannot have 
gone far.” 

This was done, hut without success, although at times the 
searchers were very near them. From their hiding-place the 
fugitives would sometimes see a solitary horseman spying* 
carefully about him, but they were not discovered. Their 


— 94 — 


place of refuge, where they secured a day’s rest, often was 
a field where the grain grew to the height of a man. 

Sometimes in the early hours of the morning they could 
hear the voices of the persons searching for them coming 
nearer and nearer, and they kept perfectly still. 

“It seems to me,” said one of the soldiers, “that the evil 
spirits of Garda are protecting these people, otherwise they 
could not hide so that we cannot find them.” 

“This is what all of us believe. We will never find them; 
the spirits will not allow it.” 

The fugitives were motionless, scarcely allowing them- 
selves to breathe. The chaplain and Hildeward placed their 
hands upon their swords until the horsemen were out of sight. 

Once, while hidden under a clump of dried leaves in the 
forest, the hoof of one of the horses was within a foot of 
Queen Adelheid. 

It seemed that the eyes of the enemy were holden; for 
they passed on. The four arose and unitedly thanked God 
for His mercy and lovihg-kindness ; and the queen repeated 
the words: “Call upon Me in the day of trouble. I will 
deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.” 

They had indeed called upon Him, and He had answered. 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

The Besieged Castle. 

After this narrow escape the chaplain advised that they 
remain concealed until later in the night than usual, for the 
queen was so exhausted from her unaccustomed exertion that 
she must have all the rest that could be obtained. 

Her three companions had given her all the assistance 
possible. Hildeward and Hedwig had supported her on each 
side; Hildeward had even carried her in his strong arms 
over rough places and streams. 

In the early dawn of morning they saw in the distance 
a body of water, which Martin recognized as the Mincio 
Kiver, which runs close to Mantua, and was gratified that 


— 95 — 


he had been successful in guiding them in the direction of 
Keggio. 

In the dim light they saw a fisherman on the shore 
with his boat. Martin hurried to meet him, and asked his 
assistance. 

After a short conversation he saw that he was a man that 
could be trusted, and he told him who they were, and where 
they intended to go. 

“My cabin is on the other side,” he said. “I will row 
you over, and there the poor young queen will be as safe as 
she can be anywhere upon earth.” 

The small river was narrow at that point, and soon they 
were in the little place, which was so hidden by trees and 
shrubbery that no one expected to find a dwelling there. 

With flint and steel a fire was lighted and the fisherman, 
quite an adept by reason of long practise, cooked the fresh 
fish over the coals, which, with brown bread, made a meal 
for the hungry travelers long to be remembered by them. 

The bed, though hard, was a place of sweet rest to the 
weary queen. She remained in the hut most of the day, 
feeling a sense of security and peace to which she was 
a stranger in Garda Castle; and never, in all the luxury she 
enjoyed later on, did she forget the three peaceful days she 
passed in the fisherman’s cottage. She thanked God, too, that 
He had given her four such noble friends in those dark hours 
of persecution. 

She did not dare leave the seclusion of the cabin during 
the day, but when night came on, she and two of her faithful 
companions could enjoy the fresh, fragrant air of the forest. 

The chaplain was on his way to Reggio. He had planned, 
as soon as the queen would be in a safe place, to go and see 
Bishop Adelard and ask him to send a company of soldiers 
to convoy the queen to whatever place he considered safest. 
Dressed in his soldier suit, no one would for a moment take 
him for a priest. 

The journey to Reggio was not without danger, and it 
required all his ingenuity to avoid meeting the emissaries 
of Berengarius. But he succeeded. Arriving at the palace 


— 96 


of Bishop Adelard, he told of the escape of Queen Adelheid 
from Garda Castle and of her long, weary walk to see him 
and be under his protection. 

The bishop was glad to learn the queen had escaped, 
and that he could help her. He immediately summoned 
a company of soldiers to go to the fisheiunan’s cottage under 
the guidance of chaplain Martin, and take the queen and 
her attendants to Canossa Castle. He sent three horses 
along for the fugitives. 

At the same time he sent a messenger to Steward Azzo, 
telling him of the queen’s coming, asking him to have his 
soldiers armed and ready to meet the enemy in case of 
a surprise. 

This request was promptly attended to, and soon every- 
thing was in readiness for the coming of the queen and her 
attendants. 

When Martin and the soldiers reached the cabin, the 
queen sank upon her knees, and with uplifted hands and 
streaming eyes thanked God for all His goodness to her. 
The chaplain, Hedwig, and Hildeward knelt with her. 

Knight Azzo and his soldiers were waiting to receive 
them, and he won the confidence of the queen at the first 
interview. He was a noble, whole-souled man, and, what was 
of great importance to her, was a trusted friend of the bishop. 

It was with tears of gratitude that Adelheid parted from 
the fisherman. “I will not forget your goodness to me,” she 
said, clasping his hand in farewell. “The time may come 
when I shall be able to repay your kindness in giving me 
shelter under your roof,” a promise which she nobly kept in 
providing for him a competency for life. 

As she had turned from the cabin to mount the horse 
provided for her, Hildeward had a word of farewell. 

“Now that your Majesty is safely on your way and under 
strong protection, you will permit me to return to my German 
home. On my way I hope to meet his Majesty King Otto, 
and tell him that you received his message, and that you will 
he found at Castle Canossa.” 

“I have much to thank you for, my friend,” replied Adel- 


heid, taking his hand, while tears were filling her eyes. 
“Tell your king that he has much to be proud of in having 
you for an assistant. I hope our parting will not be for 
all time. Farewell, my brave, kind friend. May it please 
God that we meet again!” 

Hildeward clasped the chaplain in his arms as he bade 
him farewell. “I can never, never forget what you have 
done for my sister and myself; had it not been for you, we 
would still be prisoners in Garda vCastle.” 

On a high, steep, rocky place was Castle Canossa, and 
Queen Adelheid believed that in that isolated place and under 
the protection of Steward Azzo she would be perfectly safe. 
But it was not entirely so. Berengarius was incensed at 
her escape from Garda Castle, and threatened Steward Azzo 
with severe punishment. 

Knight Azzo laughed at this, and sent him a message 
to the effect that upon the steep rock where Canossa was 
placed, she could never again fall into his tyrannical hands. 

The events of the last few days had followed so rapidly 
that Berengarius had not tin\e to prepare for a great storming 
of the castle; but he knew that it was not provisioned for 
any great length of time, and if he could not take the place 
by force of weapons, he could subdue its inmates by starva- 
tion. He would try storming it first, and, if not successful, 
he would put a bar upon food being taken into the castle. 

Kow that the queen was comfortably placed, Hildeward 
cheerily left Canossa and turned northward to his old home, 
his heart thrilling with the pleasurable thought of again 
meeting his uncle Gozbert, and hearing of his experiences 
since they parted at Garda Castle. 

He had been several days on the way when he met three 
young men evidently out on their late summer jaunt to see 
the world, and to his glad surprise he found one of them 
to be a friend whom he knew and loved. “Wido,” he ex- 
claimed, “do I really see my cousin Wido?” 

“You are right. I am rejoiced to see you”; and they 
clasped hands cordially. 

With Wido were Hengist and Keringer, whom Wido had 

King Otto’s Crown. 7 


— 98 — 


introduced as the sons of Gerhard von Stein, the owner 
of Hartrun Castle. They were greatly surprised and highly 
pleased when Hildeward informed them that they, too, were 
his cousins. 

“How did we become your cousins asked Keringer 
eagerly. 

“Your father, Gerhard von Stein, and my father, Conrad 
von Stein, were brothers.” 

“Who told you of it?” 

“Your uncle and mine. Uncle Gozbert, when I was with 
him in his cabin in the great forest of Merseburg. He is 
forester and hunter for King Otto.” 

“But how did he become our uncle?” asked Hengist. 

“His sister was the wife of Gerhard von Stein; she was 
your mother. She was also the sister of Widows father. Uncle 
Buppert, for he and Uncle Gozbert are brothers, which makes 
Wido a cousin to all three of us. We four are first cousins.” 

There was another hearty shaking of hands over this 
happy relationship, and the cousins went to the shade of the 
trees on the edge of the forest and talked of things past and 
present. 

“Now tell me,” said Hildeward, “how it is that you 
three from the distant land of Saxony come into the hostile 
land of Italy at<*this time of change of rulers; for these 
war times are not without danger.” 

“I will teU you,” said Wido. “The knowledge of the 
intention of King Otto to raise in all haste an army to get 
Queen Adelheid out of prison was not long in reaching 
Beleke and Hartrun castles. We heard that all the qualified 
soldiers rushed to the gathering-places, for a wonderful en- 
thusiasm prevailed. How could we sit still in our homes? 
My father was willing that I should join the army of King 
Otto, for since the time of that great trouble between King 
Otto and his brother, Duke Henry of Bavaria, which ended 
in a complete reconciliation between the brothers, my father 
has abandoned all hatred against King Otto and his ad- 
herents. God be praised, he is entirely changed. 

“At Kegensburg we had the good fortune to see the 


— 99 — 


mustering of the army. Besides the great army of foot- 
soldiers, there were horsemen, knights, counts, princes, and 
barons, all full of enthusiasm. There was a company of foot- 
soldiers with cross-bows and arrows, another company with 
slings, another with clubs, another with lances, and the 
horsemen were all in armor. 

^^The feudal vassals who gathered at the call of the king 
were now free men as a reward of faithful service in battle. 

“The army was composed of well-drilled soldiers, who 
have been in many a feud, and though never having been on 
a battle-field, they know how to use the weapons. 

“Some who wished to go into battle were not allowed, 
because they were not experienced in using the weapons, 
and knew nothing of the rules of warfare. Among those 
accepted are carpenters, butchers, hunters, fishermen, fowlers, 
who had been trained in the use of weapons. The handling 
of the clubs is an art, as is spear-throwing, the use of slings, 
which is really more of an art than the others, and footmen 
as well as horsemen can wheel and turn in an amazing 
manner. 

“The king was charmed to see Hengist and Keringer,” 
continued Wido. “He called them his young deliverers, 
having saved him not only from the teeth of the bear, but 
also from the stiletto of the assassin. He also gave me his 
hand and said that I, too, had been a deliverer of one of 
his House.” 

“When did the army leave for Italy?” asked Hildeward. 

“The middle of September. They marched through the 
day and rested at night in their camps, the king^s tent being 
in the middle. How, cousin, you will have a chance to see 
King Otto and his army. As we reached the foot of the Alps 
over which the troops were to pass, the king called us to him 
and said, ‘You boys can travel much faster than my army, 
and you may be able to reach Italian soil much earlier. 
Probably you can do me a service. I have sent two mes- 
sengers to Garda Castle in Italy to tell the queen that I and 
my army intend to come to free her from prison, but have 
not as yet heard if she has received the message. It would 


— 100 — 


be a great comfort to her to know that we are on the way. 
Perhaps you three boys may contrive some way to send her 
a letter from me/ 

‘‘Of course, we joyously answered that we would do the 
best we could, and he gave us a letter written by his own hand 
which we are to give to her if we can. 

“We have crossed the Alps and have now reached Italy. 
We will lay aside our German traveling garb. Just as we 
crossed, we had a great surprise, for we came unexpectedly 
upon a company of Swabian soldiers of Duke Ludolph of 
Swabia, the son of King Otto. He had secretly gone to Italy 
to free Queen Adelheid before King Otto could get here, 
and as yet the king knows nothing of this undertaking.” 

“God be praised !” said Hildeward reverently, “that I have 
heard something of Ludolph. But I fear it will be dis- 
pleasing to the king, and no good will come of it. The duke 
should not have gone on that venture.” 

“Where is Queen Adelheid?” asked Wido. 

“She is in Canossa Castle,” said Hildeward, and he told 
them the whole story of being sent, accompanied by Uncle 
Gozbert, to try to get a message to the queen, and how it 
was done, to which the cousins listened with intense interest. 

“Now I fear,” he added, “that Berengarius will get news 
of the coming of Prince Ludolph, and it will harm the cause 
of the queen. No doubt. Uncle Gozbert is with the prince, 
so I need not search for him. Now, cousins,” he continued, 
“I must keep on my way to meet the king, and tell him of 
the result of my commission to the queen.” 

“We, too, will keep on our way, and we are certainly 
happy to have met you, and to have received so much in- 
formation.” 

The four cousins clasped hands in farewell, and Hilde- 
ward continued his course northward, while the three kept 
on the way pointed out by him to Canossa Castle. 

Steadily they walked for several days, only halting to 
rest and eat their simple food. At length the castle came 
in view. It was surrounded by Berengarius’s soldiery, just 
what Hildeward told them they might expect. The king 


— 101 


was with his soldiers, so eager was he to have the queen again 
a prisoner in his hands. 

The three emissaries of King Otto, under the protection 
of their German clothes, watched the movements of the 
besiegers with alert interest, especially their efforts to make 
the siege batteries do the work expected of them. 

But this they could not do ; the projectile machines could 
throw the stones only to the foot of the rock upon which 
stood the castle, not even reaching to the foundation of the 
great building. 

Foiled in this attempt of storming the place, Berengarius 
resolved to allow no food to be carried in to the prisoners; 
he would starve them into submission. 

The three boys almost lost hope of being able to give 
the message of King Otto to Queen Adelheid. At length 
a thought came to Wido of how it might be done, which was 
to send the letter by means of cross-bow and arrow. 

“But where would you aim, not knowing the apartment 
occupied by the queen?” asked Hengist. 

“I believe that any one who sees the letter with the king’s 
seal upon it will know that it will be wise to deliver it to 
the queen or into the hands of the steward, who is her friend 
and protector.” 

, “You are right. How stupid of us not to have thought 
of it at once! We have wasted time and perhaps attracted 
the attention of the enemy. The arrow might have been 
sent up without being noticed by any one. But where will 
you get a bow and arrow?” 

“I thought of walking with one of the soldiers this 
evening. That will give me an opportunity to notice where 
in the camp I can best secure them, and from that point 
I will see which is the best place to take my aim.” 

“You are running some risk,” said Keringer, “and you 
are showing great bravery in thinking of carrying out this 
really ingenious plan. I believe you will succeed.” 

That evening Wido secured a bow and arrow, and 
fastening the king’s letter to the queen to the point of the 


102 — 


arrow, he shot it straight through the window at which it 
was aimed. 

In the mean time the inmates of the castle were suffering 
from want of food. Azzo had done his best to give them 
aid; even the domestic animals had been slain to satisfy 
the pangs of hunger. 

Daily he looked out of the windows to see if King Otto’s 
troops were in view, but noticed no signs of their coming. 

Adelheid and Hedwig were among the sufferers. They 
saw the need in the castle was growing greater day by day, 
and that the steward had no words of comfort. Doubt, 
indeed, filled the hearts of every one at the castle that the 
troops would reach there before it would be too late. 

Had some disaster hindered the king’s coming or had 
he changed his mind? was a question that no one could 
answer. 

To be so weak from hunger that the body trembled was 
hard enough for strong men to bear, but that the gentle, 
lovely young queen should suffer for want of suitable food 
filled Azzo with distress, while the queen urged that because 
of her others should not suffer. 

How to save the queen from the tyranny of Berengarius 
was Azzo’s one thought. The hosts of soldiers that sur- 
rounded the castle made escape impossible. There was no 
subterranean passageway as in many other castles, nor 
a secret stairway leading to the open. 

On the morning of the third day there was great excite- 
ment among the soldiers in the courtyard. One of them 
had found an arrow on the roof of a horse-stall, and fastened 
securely to its point was a parchment sealed with the seal 
of King Otto. 

Without delay Steward Azzo opened it, but as address 
and letter were in a foreign language, which he believed to 
be German, he took it to Queen Adelheid with haste. 

“God be praised!” she exclaimed. “Help is near. King 
Otto is coming; indeed, he is very near. When need is 
greatest, then God’s help is nearest.” 

The next morning the castle and surroundings reechoed 


— 103 — 


with the news that Berengarius had called off the siege, and 
that the great German emperor King Otto was approaching 
with a large army to save the queen. In less than an hour 
the place was clear of Berengarius’s soldiers. 

King Otto was accompanied by his brother, Duke Henry 
of Bavaria, Duke Conrad of Lothringia, and others of the 
nobility. He had in good time met Hildeward, who had 
told him where the queen was to be found, also of the 
threatened siege. The troops were then put to a forced 
march. * 

On the way the king met Prince Ludolph with his small 
army. He was incensed at his foolish undertaking, and 
rebuked him severely, as did his Uncle Henry of Bavaria, 
who scoffed with such contemptuous raillery that his treat- 
ment was bitterly resented. 

“The king has a right to reproach me,” Ludolph said, 
“because he is my father. But in no way is it your duty to 
reprimand me as if I were but a boy under your care. You 
would have more reason to think of your own misdeeds, and 
especially the one against my father’s life.” 

To this Diike Henry angrily responded, whereupon he 
heard some more remarks which were not at all compli- 
mentary, and they parted, anything but good friends. 

Instead of the laurels he expected to win, Ludolph had 
met only reproach and ridicule. Ashamed of the whole affair, 
he deeply regretted that he had not taken the advice of 
Hildeward and never set out on the wild attempt to free 
the queen. 

At Pavia the king halted with his army, and sent a com- 
pany of his most distinguished men to Canossa with costly 
presents to the queen, and asked her hand in marriage. 

Adelheid was greatly surprised, but expressed her- willing- 
ness to become the king’s wife, and be irnder the protection 
of the ruler of Germany. She had never seen him, but had 
heard much praise as to his appearance and nobility of 
character. 

The messengers who had brought the presents and offer 
of marriage to the queen were instructed to bring her to 


— 104 — 


Pavia, where the king kept court, and where he would await 
her coming. 

Accompanied by Hedwig and Chaplain Martin, as well 
as many brave knights and soldiers, Adelheid left Canossa 
Castle for Pavia. It was a triumphal journey. The people 
came in crowds to see her, the young and beautiful queen, 
who had passed through such frightful experiences. “Long 
life to our beautiful Queen Adelheid!” was the cry of joyous 
enthusiasm; for she was loved by the people while Beren- 
garius was hated. 

More than half way on the journey to Pavia they were 
met by Duke Henry of Bavaria, who was appointed by the 
king to give her his greeting, and he was followed by 
a retinue of stately horsemen to escort her to Pavia. 

Duke Henry was so cordial, and evinced such brotherly 
kindness, that Adelheid never in after life forgot it, but had 
a real sisterly affection for him, of which he was truly 
worthy; for since the time of his terrible conspiracy against 
King Otto and the sincere and hearty forgiveness granted 
him by his brother, he was a changed man. 

In Pavia, the main city of Berengarius, the people were 
eagerly expecting the queen, and thousands of the citizens 
upon splendid horses, and musicians with trumpets, kettle- 
drums, and cymbals, passed through the main streets fol- 
lowing the royal cortege. Upon the balconies were richly 
dressed ladies, waving their greetings to the lovely young 
queen. 

Although King Otto had heard much of her beauty, he 
was in no way disappointed in her appearance, and her 
sweet, gentle manner won his heart, while she was equally 
pleased with the stately, majestic appearance and the ex- 
pression of goodness upon the handsome features of her 
future husband. 

In the autumn of the year 951 was celebrated with great 
splendor the marriage of King Otto of Germany and Queen 
Adelheid of Italy, in the populous city of Pavia, where the 
queen, a little over a year before, had suffered such anguish 
of mind. 


105 — 


Distinguished guests from Germany and Italy traveled 
long distances to attend the wedding festivities. Food for 
thousands had to be provided, not only for the guests, but 
also for a great number of horses. 

The banners of the nobility and the shields of the knights , 
added to the gay appearance of the palace, and in the streets 
there were not only the guests, but also traveling people who 
came of their own free will. Minstrels, acrobats, and like 
entertainers were there in great numbers, reaping a rich 
harvest during the three days of the festivities. 

Never to be forgotten was the pageant of the royal bridal 
pair to the church, and when the archbishop put the king’s 
ring upon the finger of Adelheid and pronounced the blessing, 
she could not but compare the present with the sad times . 
through which she had passed. 

In a corner of the church, where they had a full view of 
the service, were Hedwig and Martin, Uncle Gozbert, and 
the four causins. Tears of joy were in the eyes of the two 
who had shared the two prisons with the happy bride. 

Great preparations were made for the tables at which 
the people were to be feasted. Herds of cattle, deer, and 
fowls were killed, and the whole three days were to the 
people of Pavia a time of jollity and good cheer, never to 
be forgotten. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

Rebellion against King Otto. 

On the afternoon of a December day in the year 951, 
Ludolph, Duke of Swabia, walked to and fro in his apart- 
ment at Pavia, where he was staying at that time. 

At a window sat Hildeward, gazing at the beautiful land- 
scape without, but with unseeing eyes. The garden and 
grounds of King Otto’s palace which a few weeks before had 
been gay and fragrant, were now covered with snow, and 
the shrubbery and trees in their white covering were beautiful 
under the beams of the afternoon sun. 

Hildeward’s thoughts, however, were not upon the scenery, 


106 — 


but upon the troubles of the young prince Ludolph, and his 
faithful heart was sad. 

“You may say what you wdll, Hildeward,” said Ludolph, 
without pausing in his walli, “but there is no one who 
disturbs my peace as does my uncle, Duke Henry. Any one 
can see that he is doing his best to turn my father against 
me, or at least weaken his affection for me, and I cannot see 
how it is that my father and you are so blinded.” 

“I see all, your Highness, because my position in palace 
and castle gives me the opportunity to know that you are 
not friendly to him.” 

“Why should I make a secret of it? To me it seems in- 
credible that, after doing his best to assassinate my father, 
he can now evince such devotion and loyalty to him; not 
openly and honorably, as a brother should, but by cajoling 
and wheedling like a subservient menial.” 

“You go too far in your censure, my prince, to speak that 
way of the duke; instead of censuring him, you ought to see 
that he is doing his best to make amends for the terrible 
crime wLich he intended to commit, as we know and all the 
world knows; and the shame and remorse must be hard for 
him to endure. Would it not be better to help him forget 
what causes him anguish every time he thinks of it?” 

“But see how he has treated me. Had I been left to 
carry out my plans in freeing Queen Adelheid from prison, 
it would have been done, and my father and his army would 
have been spared the hardship of crossing the Alps. He, 
Uncle Henry, circumvented me by sending messengers to 
the cities ; and when I reached Italy, the gates of the Italian 
cities were closed against me as though I were an enemy. 
Just think of my humiliation ! I, the only heir to the throne 
of Germany ! — and all the fault of Uncle Henry.” 

Hildeward did not make reply to this. He deeply sympa- 
thized with the prince, but would not add fuel to the flame 
by censuring Duke Henry. 

“If it were not to his advantage, you would not see so 
much adulation and toadyism,” continued Ludolph. “Believe 
me, it was not my father’s choice that Uncle Henry went in 


— 1.07 — 


King Otto’s name to receive Queen Adelheid as she came 
from Canossa to Pavia. His thirst for honor made him 
press himself into this service of welcoming her, and through 
it he won the friendship of the queen and the gratitude of 
my father. This he has done, and in doing so, he usurped 
the place which by right was mine as heir to the crown; 
or if not to me, the honor of welcoming the queen should 
have been given my sister’s husband, Conrad, Duke of 
Lothringia. Ko! it must be Uncle Henry; and through him 
we were pushed into the background.” 

“The queen’s noble heart and the king’s sense of justice 
will not allow your Highness nor Duke Conrad to suffer 
neglect for any one ; both are worthy of your highest respect 
and love.” 

“Had it not been for my uncle’s malicious interference, 
I would have had the triumph of releasing Queen Adelheid 
from prison. He set the most eminent among the Italians 
against me, and the gates were closed to me, which made 
me a target for the jeers of the people, who believed me to 
be a foolish, reckless idiot. How can I do else than 
hate him?” 

“You are in a fair way to have not only a bitter enemy 
in your uncle, but also to anger your father. O my prince, 
reflect before you say or do something you will greatly 
regret! Forget the mistake you made in trying to free the 
queen. Your intention was good, and if it proved a failure, 
it is not the only failure that has been made, and by older 
and more experienced men than yourself.” 

“I could not bear enmity against my father,” said 
Ludolph; “my love for him is too deep. I would not battle 
against him, but against Duke Henry. However, if my 
father persists, as he has done, in setting me aside for his 
brother, what else can I do, no matter how painful it may be, 
than to turn my weapons against him?” 

“You surely would not do that?” exclaimed Hildeward 
in pained astonishment. 

“Not unless it were necessary. I cannot remain peaceful 
while my uncle is trying to estrange my father and the queen 


— 108 — 


from me. He would cast me entirely aside, and endanger 
my right to the crown of Germany. So I intend to leave 
Pavia to-morrow • morning for Germany. It is useless and 
foolish for me to remain here. I have always willingly 
listened to your advice, and never took offense at what you 
said, but this time I will not follow it. I will give you an 
hour to decide whether you will stay with me or with my 
father. I also ask you to promise me that you will not 
impart this confidential conversation to any one. Will you 
do it? If so, shake hands.” 

“I promise,” said Hildeward, and clasped the hand of the 
one he loved so much, and with whom he sympathized so 
sincerely in his humiliated and depressed condition, as well 
as because of the infl^uence Duke Henry had gained over 
the king, who had opened his whole heart to him and had 
given him his protection, as if he had never conspired 
against him. 

On the other hand, Hildeward also sympathized with 
King Otto, who had shown his love for his son Ludolph in 
every way, already when but a boy, bestowing upon him the 
Grand Duchy of Swabia, and assuring him the succession 
to the throne of Germany. He knew also that King Otto 
was innocent of any intention of causing his son to have 
reason for disliking Duke Henry. 

In great perplexity the young man stood at the window 
and reflected what were best for him to do. He finally de- 
cided to go to the monastery of Honoldsheim, instead of to 
his Uncle Gozbert, to whom he had first thought of going; 
hut the quiet, monotonous life in the cabin in the forest, 
while welcome at some times in his life, was not what he 
needed. He longed for the companionship of Chaplain 
Martin, that dear friend of the dark days at Garda Castle, 
and resolved to go to him. 

Queen Adelheid’s first thought after her marriage was 
to show her gratitude to those who had been her faithful 
friends in adversity. 

To Martin she gave what she knew would give the greatest 
happiness, the position of abbot in the wealthy monastery 


— 109 — 


at Honoldsheim, in Bavaria. Upon Knight Azzo she be- 
stowed the title of count, and made him a member of the 
Counts of the German Empire. King Otto rewarded others 
for their faithfulness to her later. Knowing that he would 
be gladly welcomed by Martin, Hildeward’s unrest was 
quelled at the thought of being with him, and his spirits 
rose accordingly. 

The next morning Ludolph left Pavia quietly. His 
leaving the city was not known to King Otto for two days, 
when he sent for Hildeward to find out the cause of his 
departure. 

At the last meeting of father and son there was coldness 
and restraint instead of the former congenial companionship. 
King Otto did not understand the change, and hoped that 
Hildeward could give him some light on the subject. 

Hildeward felt it an unpleasant duty to tell him what he 
knew, but as tenderly as possible he imparted to him his 
own opinion without breaking his promise to Ludolph. 

“I think Prince Ludolph feels that you show more af- 
fection for your brother, the Duke of Bavaria, than for him, 
your Majesty,’’ said Hildeward, ^^and he feels that his High- 
ness Duke Henry does not show him the consideration and 
respect which is due him as your son and heir to the throne; 
especially does he feel this in respect to the Duke’s severe 
censure for the mistake he made in going to Italy to release 
her Majesty the Queen from prison, a mistake which causes 
him much humiliation.” 

Hildeward had intended to go directly to the monastery 
at ILonoldsheim, but about the time of the Christmas festival 
a report spread over Germany that Duke Ludolph had called 
together the representative men of the kingdom at Saalfeld 
to lay before them his grievances against Duke Henry and, 
because of him, against King Otto, his brother’s protector 
and defender. 

The report was not long in reaching the king, and he 
groaned in the depths of his heart upon hearing it. 

‘^Can it be really the will of God that this trouble has 
come upon me through my nearest and dearest kin?” he said 
mournfully. “First my brother, whom I loved and favored. 


— 110 — 


sought to take my life and cause me hours of grief, and now 
my son, whom I dearly loved, due to misunderstandings, and 
from want of confidence in me, takes up arms against me. 
O merciful God, spare me this bitter trouble! But not 
my will, but Thine be done. In all my troubles. Thou hast 
hitherto stood by me.” 

As was natural to King Otto, he bore this new heavy grief 
with Christian resignation and even with serenity. He 
summoned his son-in-law, Duke Conrad of Lorraine, who 
showed his usual cordial, friendly manner, so that the king 
had no thought that this same son-in-law was on the point of 
joining the rebellion against him. 

Duke Conrad was a tall, strong man and a brave, resolute, 
determined soldier, and there was no prince who could com- 
pare with him in appearance and as to his renowned qualities 
as a soldier. Not only was he master of the use of the sword, 
and all other weapons of the time, but as a leader in battle 
he had no superior. 

“It is sad news that has come to me from Germany,” 
said the king when Duke Conrad stood before him. “It may 
be my good fortune to extinguish the torch that my son 
Ludolph has lighted. I had hoped to stay in Italy to punish 
Berengarius, and also to unwind the intrigue which is pre- 
venting the pope from giving me one of the great wishes 
of my heart, to be crowned a Caesar at Borne, as was my 
great predecessor, Charlemagne. But the danger beyond the 
Alps is too great for me to remain here. I know from 
experience what a small affair will bring on a war in my 
kingdom, and I must be there to nip it in the bud. May 
the Almighty be with me in the effort ! I wish you, my dear 
Conrad, to take my place here in Italy and uphold my cause. 
It will require strength to do this, and I feel confident that 
you will use it.” 

Conrad expressed entire willingness to undertake the task. 
But notwithstanding all the energy and excellent manage- 
ment, King Otto was not ready to leave Italy until the 
early part of February. Then, accompanied by Queen Adel- 
heid, Duke Henry of Bavaria, and a company of soldiers, 
they left Pavia, and it was Easter before they reached 


— Ill 


Saxony, where they were greeted with enthusiasm, the beauti- 
ful and gracious queen being beloved by all. 

As the dew disappears under the beams of the sun, so 
the presence of the royal husband and wife quelled all dis- 
turbance. 

The matchless personality of the king, his serenity of 
manner and apparent obliviousness of any disturbance, 
soothed the public mind as nothing else could have done, 
and all trouble was forgotten with the disappearance of 
rebellion against lawful authority. 

In the mean time the affairs in Italy were not so pleasant 
as King Otto desired. Scarcely had he departed for Ger- 
many, when Berengarius began to usurp authority. 

- He vigorously sought adherents to assist him in getting 
the possession and holding the castles and fortresses, that 
he might take the field against Duke Conrad of Lorraine. 

They battled, and the brave Duke soon vanquished his 
antagonist, and advised him to go to Germany and see the 
king, who was at Magdeburg and own submission to him, 
assuring him of a kind reception. 

Berengarius took the advice. But when he presented 
himself to King Otto, he met with such scornful severity 
that he was incensed, as was also Duke Conrad, who had 
pledged his word for a kind reception and had accompanied 
him to Magdeburg. 

Angry disdain was shown Berengarius by King Otto 
because he suspected him of being the cause of the death 
of King Lothair, as well as because of his inhuman treatment 
of Queen Adelheid, and his persistence in calling himself 
King of Italy. 

Duke Conrad laid the blame of the whole affair upon 
Duke Henry, whom he suspected of turning his father-in- 
law'. King Otto, against him, as did Ludolph; and Duke 
Henry, angered at both, prevented a reconciliation with 
the king. 

Ludolph had another trouble that was weighing on his 
mind; a son had been bom to the royal pair, and he feared 
that a son of the beloved Adelheid would exclude him from 
the throne. 


— 112 — 


CHAPTER XV. 

The Hungarians Again. 

Four years had passed, and three of those years had been 
passed happily by Hildeward in the monastery of Honolds- 
heim, where he was busily engaged in good works for the 
poor and ailing, and for every one who needed help, as well 
as in his duties in the school. 

One pleasant summer evening, in the year 955, he was 
waiting for the return of Abbot Martin, who had been to 
Freising in Bavaria, and was expected back that day. 

Hildeward was eager to see him, and to know what he 
had seen and heard, for in the secluded monastery, news of 
the outside world was precious. 

At length he could not restrain the wish to go to meet 
him, and, mounting his horse, he set out on the rough 
road to Freising. He had not traveled far, when he saw in 
the distance a small cavalcade of horsemen; and he recog- 
nized the leader as Abbot Martin, his sword by his side, 
and guarded by four servants with chain armors, helmets, 
swords, spears, and daggers. Hildeward’s eyes brightened 
with joy at seeing his dear friend. 

“Thank God that you have reached home safely. Father 
Martin,” he said, wheeling about to ride beside him, and 
they clasped hands in cordial greeting. 

“It is good in you to come to meet me, Hildeward. Is 
all going on well in Honoldsheim ?” 

“All’s well, as usual. But we certainly missed our dear 
good abbot, and are glad to welcome you back. Did you 
enjoy your outing?” 

“Yes, in a way; yet the eight days of my visit seemed 
as so many weeks.” 

“Are you bringing any news of Augsburg?” 

“Xot altogether new,” and a shadow passed over Martin’s 
noble features. “What we have heard in our secluded home 
in the monastery is only an echo of the proceedings.” 

“I was so anxious to see you and know what was going on 
in Bavaria that I could not wait until you reached the 


— 113 — 


monastery, and so went to meet you. But I see that you are 
pale and weary from your journey, and I will not question 
you until you have had some refreshment.” 

“Ever thoughtful, my dear Hildeward. The towers of our 
dear Benedictine monastery of Honoldsheim are in full 
sight; we will soon be there, and my short absence from it 
has made me appreciate more than ever my native place, my 
Honoldsheim, and its villagers. I hope the pupils of our 
school gave you no trouble?” 

“No; all went along smoothly. I had not the least 
trouble with the pupils.” 

The abbot and Hildeward conducted a large school in 
the monastery. All branches of learning and industry were 
taught. The abbot, in his early years, before becoming 
chaplain at Garda Castle, had been a valued teacher in the 
neighborhood, and was loved by all. 

When they had reached the cloister, Hildeward had 
a servant bring a refreshing meal to the weary abbot. When 
the abbot had finished his meal and was somewhat rested, 
he related to Hildeward what he had seen and heard, which 
was all new to him, although it had happened months before. 

“King Otto and Queen Adelheid celebrated their Christ- 
mas festivities at Frankfort-on-the-Main, and shortly after 
Easter they went to Engelheim, the castle of Duke Henry 
of Bavaria, who had gone there several days before to make 
due preparations for the royal visitors. 

“But th% king and queen did not remain long, for there 
was trouble brewing secretly. From different sources the 
report reached the king that there were gatherings in the 
castles of Duke Ludolph and Duke Conrad, and that they 
were making preparations for battle. The gathering was 
composed of the daring, reckless young men of Franconia, 
Saxony, and Bavaria. 

“This matter caused King Otto unspeakable distress, 
and again and again he said, ^Can it be possible that my own 
son would turn against me with the weapons of war?’ 

“ ‘We are not safe here,’ he said to Queen Adelheid. 
‘We will go to Mayence, where we will feel more secure.’ 

King Otto’s Crown. 8 


— 114 — 

“His brother Henry agreed with him, and for his own 
safety, they decided to return to Saxony. So the three left 
Engelheim Castle at the same time. 

“The king sent a message to Mayence announcing his 
coming, and expected that the gates of the fortified city 
would be opened to him, and that he and the queen would 
be received by the citizens with loyal affection. But he 
was bitterly disappointed; the gates were closed, and no 
citizens came to receive him. 

“After a little while the strong iron-bound gate swung 
open, and the king, queen and their attendants passed in. 
How the king learned the cause of the delay. The ad- 
herents of Dukes Conrad and Ludolph were busy with their 
war preparations and had made as speedy an exit as pos- 
sible. They did not consider their insurrection as being 
leveled against the king, but against Duke Henry, as there 
was a feud between them and him which they had sworn to 
settle by force of arms. 

“Adelheid was like a comforting angel in this dark hour. 

“The king decided to sail on the Bhine to Cologne and 
visit his mother at Dortmund, the pious and clear-headed 
Queen Matilda. Here, with his beloved wife and mother. 
King Otto passed a restful time. Under the roof of his 
mother’s castle, and thanks to her sagacious counsel, he came 
to a clear understanding of the state of affairs. He regained 
his composure and self-reliance, and looked upon the future 
with manly serenity. 

“Filled with new courage, he declared the Mayence League 
null and void, threatened to take the dukedoms from Conrad 
and Ludolph, and outlaw them by putting the ban of the 
kingdom upon them. 

“Ludolph and Conrad believed this to be nothing more 
than an empty threat, and paid no attention to it. But the 
king called a parliament at Fritzlar to consider the question 
of the insurrection. 

“He did this without delay, for the report came to him 
that the affair of waging war against him had not been given 
up; on the contrary^ the dukes were near at hand, having 


— 115 — 


gained the needed assistance. Especially Duke Conrad had 
greatly strengthened his forces, and could scarcely be ex- 
pected to wait. 

“Dukes Conrad and Ludolph, though summoned to par- 
liament, resolved not to go, but to proceed in their determina- 
tion to make war upon the king. When parliament met, it 
decided against Duke Conrad, and the whole of Lothringia 
was with it. 

“Duke Conrad hurried to Lothringia, thinking it would 
be but a trifle to bring all his adherents again to his side. 
Instead, he found himself bitterly mistaken; his own people 
had turned against him in fierce, bloody war. He was an 
outlaw, the ban of the kingdom being upon him. 

“In sincere repentance he and Ludolph realized the 
foolishness of their rebellion and threw themselves upon 
their knees before King Otto, the only favor asked of him 
being that the friends and adherents who stood by them 
might not suffer punishment, and that they themselves might 
retain their dukedoms. 

“But this the king would not grant. Ludolph and Conrad 
believed, and not without cause, that Duke Henry influenced 
the king against them.’’ 

“Oh, if Prince Ludolph had been blessed with a good 
advisor, whose warnings he would have taken!” said Hilde- 
ward, as Abbot Martin paused in his narration of events. 

“He had the wisest and best of advisors, but he was too 
full of anger against his uncle Henry to take advice from 
any one. King Otto’s younger brother, the Archbishop of 
Brun, laid his hand upon Ludolph’s shoulder and in kind, 
gentle words sought to soothe the angry prince. 

“ ^Why, my dear nephew,’ he said, ‘have you brought all 
this trouble upon your father? Have you not noticed that 
his hair is turning gray before the usual time? You sin 
against God by not honoring your father. Hot to your 
friends, but to your enemies you go for advice. They pretend 
to guide you, but they lead you astray. Once you were the 
pride of your father, the hope and promise of the whole 
kingdom. Think of his sighs — tears even — over your re- 


— 116 — 


bellion against him! Yet his heart is open and ready to 
receive his son, and he would rejoice over his return. 
will again receive you with a loving heart, and in time will 
forgive your adherents. O Ludolph, turn again to your 
father, love him as you once did, and that love will be 
returned in double measure.’ 

‘‘Ludolph listened, but his heart was too full of bitter 
hatred and revenge against Duke Henry, whom he blamed 
for all his trouble, to take the advice to heart at that time. 

“He and Conrad had pleaded with the king to pardon 
their adherents,” continued Abbot Martin. 

“ ‘We are ready, father, Conrad and I, to take all the 
punishment you think we deserve,’ said Ludolph with trem- 
bling lips and tear-dimmed eyes, ‘but we ask for pardon for 
the poor men whom we drew into this trouble, which we ^ 
sincerely regret.’ ” 

“That is just what one would expect of the noble young 
prince,” remarked Hildeward. 

“ ‘It is impossible for me to do this,’ replied the king. 
‘How can I break my royal word and pardon the traitors 
who have taken up the sword against me?’ 

“ ‘Then, father, the war must go on,’ said Ludolph ; ‘we 
have bound ourselves by oath not to accept pardon from 
you unless it were also granted to them. Hear our petition 
for them, father, and we will lay down our arms, never again 
to take them up against you.’ 

“ ‘Mercy and pardon for our friends,’ implored Conrad. 

“ ‘I cannot, I dare not,’ said the king, deeply moved ; 

‘it would but open the way for further insurrections. This 
uprising, which was too weak to stand upon its feet, would 
grow stronger if not prevented. I have pardoned you and 
Conrad ; I can do no more.’ ” 

“He was right,” commented Hildeward ; “but what 
a severe trial for father and son!” 

“Like fuel to the flame,” continued Abbot Martin, “were 
the words of Duke Henry to Ludolph. 

“ ‘What was your object in battling against your father ?’ 
he asked. ‘If you wished to battle with me, why not battle 


9 


— 117 — 


with me alone? Do you suppose I care anything for your 
enmity? Not so much as a blade of grass/ and he took 
one up, broke it, and threw it back. ^But what have you 
against your father, to make trouble for him? If your head 
and heart are in the right place, put your spite on me. I am 
not in the least afraid of you.’ ” 

^‘Shameful in Duke Henry to speak that way to the 
troubled boy,” commented Hildeward. “Strange that he 
does not think of his own deeds against King Otto.” 

“It is stranger still that Ludolph made no reply; he 
turned his back upon his uncle and walked away, followed 
by Duke Conrad. In his heart he knew that his uncle’s 
influence with King Otto had prevented a reconciliation. 

“The two former owners of dukedoms returned to 
Mayence,” continued Abbot Martin, “and in Bavaria there 
was an open insurrection against Duke Henry, the former 
ruler. King Otto had to see that counts and barons were 
leaving his army and going over to the enemy, and the weight 
of grief and sorrow upon his troubled mind was increased. 
He and Duke Henry must battle with the insurgents not 
only on the Bhine, but on the Danube. 

“The gates of Regensburg were opened to Ludolph and 
his soldiers, and he drove out the wife and child of his hated 
uncle Henry and took possession of the treasures of the 
dukedom. He did not keep them for himself, however, but 
distributed them among the soldiers as prizes. For six weeks 
the battle lasted; then he returned to Swabia. 

“All the Bavarians were now turned against the king, and 
his position was full of danger. But he never lost courage; 
his trust and faith in God were his support in all the 
troubles of life; he returned to Saxony, and after a little 
delay Ludolph followed. 

“The words of advice and entreaty of the archbishop 
had not been without effect. Ludolph’s proud spirit was 
subdued, and he longed to be at peace with his father. 

“With bare feet, as a penitent, he threw himself upon his 
knees and implored forgiveness. 

“ ^Stand up, my son,’ said the king, with tears in his 


— 118 — 


kind eyes; ‘you have given me much trouble, but I consider 
the circumstances that influenced you. I freely forgive you, 
but I cannot restore to you your dukedom, nor can I remove 
the ban of the empire until the next meeting of parliament 
which will not meet at Fritzlar, in December, but at Arnstadt, 
in Thuringia. 

“ ‘I will give you and Conrad, who has also asked my 
forgiveness, the castles you have owned, and Mayence. You 
will have the property in Swabia which you owned, and 
Conrad will have again in his possession his property in 
Franconia, but the dukedoms you and Conrad have lost 
for all time.’ ” 

“The city of Mayence,” remarked Hildeward, “would 
certainly be a safe place for any one that wished protection 
from an enemy; with the high, strong walls surrounding it, 
its foundation deep in the earth, such a stronghold would 
be almost impregnable. To attack it with projectiles would 
be a senseless business; and it would be impossible to under- 
mine it on account of its deep and solid foundations. Thou- 
sands of soldiers would be required to carry away the earth. 
The besieged would soon realize what was being done, and 
spears, arrows, and stones would be hurled down upon them 
and stop the work.” 

“Yes,” said Abbot Martin; “and it is a joy to know that 
the unnatural war between father and son is ended, for it 
caused both great loss and sorrow.” 

It was a great pleasure in Hildeward’s secluded life to learn 
all this from the lips of Abbot Martin; it gave him food for 
thought, and in his heart he pitied and sympathized at the 
same time; he pitied young Ludolph, who was tyrannized 
by Duke Henry; and he sympathized with the king, who so 
loved his son, but must not weaken in his authority over him. 

King Otto had scarcely reached Saxony, when he received 
a message from the Hungarians, which at first sight might 
have been considered friendly, for it was worded: “We are 
coming to the greatest king upon earth, the sun among the 
stars, to acknowledge our yielding to his majesty, and to 
admire him face to face.” 


— 119 — 


But Otto was quick to perceive the cunning flattery in 
these words. The Hungarians wanted to inspect the German 
lands, and see if it were possible to invade them. Otto, how- 
ever, acted as though he did not perceive their real motive, 
but gave the messenger a liberal compensation. 

Scarcely had the man departed when a message came from 
Duke Henry that the Hungarians had entered the southern 
part of Germany, and were spreading over it like an im- 
petuous river, — at least a hundred thousand strong. 

“They will fight us now,” continued Duke Henry’s mes- 
sage, “for the reason that we are in such confusion owing to 
our own battles and troubles, and are still bleeding from 
the wounds we received. They boast that their horses will 
drink our German rivers dry, and their hoofs will stamp out 
our cities, and we will be trodden down with such force that 
we will forget to rise, and for all time will be their slaves.” 

“Truly, this disaster is too much for meek man to bear,” 
said King Otto sadly, “but God reigns supreme. He will be 
with me, and grant me victory.” 

The case did seem almost hopeless. The king had but 
a small army to meet the enemy, and some sagacious, faithful 
men must be sent to the southern part of the kingdom to 
see how matters really stood. These faithful ones were 
Steward Euppert, of Beleke Castle, and his son Wido, and 
Hengist and Keringer, sons of Gerhard von Stein. 

Euppert, in the years which had passed, had grown gray, 
but like a giant he sat upon his powerful horse, his gray 
eyes beaming with pleasure because he had been chosen to 
go on such an important expedition. 

A helmet was on his head, a red shield hung by a leather 
band from his shoulder, and his sword was at his side. The 
three younger men were also well armed. 

“How is it now with your father ?” asked the king of the 
young men from Hartrun Castle; “he is now well advanced 
in years.” 

“Yes, your Majesty, he is now nearly eighty, but still 
strong and in good health and enjoys tha hunt. The fine 
chestnut horse you gave him is somewhat stiff, but is still 


120 — 


eager for the hunt. My father would be delighted to go on 
this expedition,” added Keringer. 

^^He is doing his share in sending his two sons; that is 
indeed self-denial,” commented the king. 

“You were once against me, old friend,” continued Otto, 
turning with a smile to Kuppert, “but I rejoice to see that 
now you are on my side.” 

“Yes, I will now make good. Your noble treatment of 
my loved benefactor, Duke Henry, melted the ice about my 
heart; now I am a faithful servant and adherent of your 
Majesty.” 

“But I fear that you will be exposed to great danger from 
these wild, reckless invaders. Perhaps at your age it would 
be better for you to remain in your quiet home.” 

“The burden of years will not keep me from doing all 
I can. I could not stay at home when our kingdom is in 
danger.” 

“I am sure that you will do your duty. How many 
winters have come and gone for you?” 

“One and seventy, gracious king; and in spite of my 
gray beard I hope to see some of the pagan visitors have 
reason to be sorry they came.” 

“You will surely be the oldest soldier in my company; 
and I am proud to have you.” 

“With your permission, gracious king, I would like to 
tell you that my brother Gozbert, your forester and hunter, 
would be glad to go with us if he were told of this danger 
to our fatherland; he would much rather be a soldier than 
a hunter.” 

“I know Gozbert well, and know that he will fight with 
great valor for me and for our kingdom. He has stood on 
the battle-field with me and was brave and efficient. I have 
heard that he has gone to be with his nephew Hildeward 
in the monastery at Honoldsheim.” 

This report was correct. Gozbert had yearned for the 
company of his beloved nephew Hildeward, and, several 
months ago, had left his solitary cabin in the forest and 
walked to the Honoldsheim monastery. Hildeward had 


— 121 


welcomed him with open arms, and Abbot Martin had re- 
ceived him with heartfelt pleasure. In that secluded place 
they had heard nothing of the invasion of the Hungarians. 

One of the many duties that Hildeward had taken upon 
himself at the monastery was the providing of wild game 
for the table, a charge of which Gozbert took delight in 
relieving him. 

In the great forest were the hiding-places of deer and 
other wild game, and uncle and nephew knew these places 
by instinct, and never failed in securing all that was needed. 

One morning they were surprised to see several horsemen, 
clad in the skins of animals, small men with long hair, well 
armed with bows and arrows, spears and slings, and their 
speech strange to the two hunters. 

“They are Huns,” whispered Gozbert. “God grant that 
a wild horde of them are not again in our land! Wicked, 
ferocious robbers they are. These are scouts and spies, come 
to see where to make an attack.” 

“We must not lose a moment’s time in warning the people 
at the monastery that they make speedy flight,” said Hilde- 
ward anxiously. 

“But let us first settle with these spies for all time,” said 
Gozbert, the fire of the soldier lighting his eyes. 

“No, uncle; it will not do to attack them. One thrust 
of a spear or a stone from a sling would finish you or me. 
And see, hanging from each saddle there is a noose, which 
they throw, never missing their aim, then plunge away on 
their swift horses, dragging the poor body after them until 
life is crushed out.” 

On the well-known path Hildeward led the way to the 
monastery, and the information gave much alarm and caused 
intense excitement. Some of the monks remembered a former 
invasion of the Huns, the barbarians climbing the walls and 
obtaining entrance. They were in the power of the invaders, 
who robbed the place of its treasures, plundered the cellar 
by taking all the eatables with them, and on leaving, threw 
a firebrand into the building. 

Abbot Martin and all the inmates of the monastery 


— 122 — 


realized the danger, but knew not what course to take to 
protect themselves. 

^^Pack the best of your possessions and resort to flight,’^ 
said Gozbert. “I will drive the cattle into the forest, and 
leave all the doors open; for when those yellow rascals see 
the place abandoned, they will think there is nothing left 
worth stealing, and these wild horsemen have no inclination 
to remain long in a place where there is no booty to carry 
away.” 

‘‘You are right in all points,” said the abbot in his serene 
manner; “we will hasten to one of our castles, where we will 
find shelter and protection, and as soon as the Huns scurry 
through this region, we will return.” Saying this, he set 
out with Hildeward. 

Three of the monks took care of the Moorish tapestry, 
and others secured other valuable things for safe-keeping. 
With heavy hearts they took up the line of march, not know- 
ing if their home would be as they left it or a mass of 
smoking ruins when they would return. 

Gozbert joined them in the forest, and went with them 
to the castle, where Abbot Martin and his flock were heartily 
welcomed, and would be sheltered and protected. Then 
uncle and nephew kept on their way to Augsburg, for it 
would be in the richest city of the empire that the Huns 
would be likely to make their depredations, no longer scat- 
tered bands, but a great organized army, determined to 
conquer Germany. 

In the neighborhood of Freising uncle and nephew saw 
with anxiety a company of Hungarian soldiers, and with 
difficulty avoided them. With them were the same scouts 
that they had seen in the forest. 

The city of Freising had nothing to attract their greed, 
and in a spirit of destruction they set it on fire. The little 
town went up in flames and smoke. 

On the way the two horsemen saw bodies of the country 
people who had been ruthlessly slain, their weapons still 
in their hands, and the wild horde had swept on to Augsburg. 


— 123 — 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The Battle of Augsburg. 

In the city of Augsburg the Huns expected to meet with 
but little resistance; for although a populous city, the 
walls surrounding it were not high, and towers could be 
dispensed with. But it was of no benefit to the defenders 
that the people of the surrounding country fled to the city 
with their goods for safety and protection; thej^ were in 
their way. 

The leader of the defense was the brave and pious Bishop 
Adalrich, a true friend of King Otto. He had been the 
guest of the king, and had accompanied him on hunts in 
the forest where Gozbert, as hunter and forester, had seen 
him and admired him greatly. 

They had scarcely reached Augsburg, when the Huns 
appeared, swooping over the city like an immense dark swarm 
of grasshoppers. The blowing of trumpets, the clashing of 
cymbals, and other wild music, not pleasant to the ear, an- 
nounced their coming to the citizens. 

On some of the horses of the wild horde were utensils 
used in the celebration of the mass, and richly embroidered 
covers, by which one could rightly judge that the robbers 
had been through the monastery and had carried off all that 
pleased their fancy. 

In advance of the great army was the leader, Bulzu, 
“Prince of the Princes.” On his head was a helmet with an 
eagle with outspread wings, and on each side of his face 
hung locks of long hair. He was the indisputable master 
of horsemanship; his arrow never failed to pierce a bird 
on the wing, and with his curved saber he could without 
fail sever the head from the body of an enemy. 

“We should meet the enemy outside, and not allow them 
to enter,” said the leader of the German force to Bishop 
Adalrich. 

“That would be a bad beginning,” replied the bishop 
serenely. The words were scarcely uttered when the doors 


— 124 — 


of the walled city were broken in, and the Huns were 
swarming through the streets. 

The bishop met them in his official robes, without helmet 
or coat of mail. Arrows and stones from the slings flew 
about him like hail, but he remained calm. Near him were 
Gozbert and Hildeward, two warriors whose one thought 
was that of protecting him. Many a deadly missile aimed 
at him was warded off by their shields, and many a Hun 
who, with spear in hand, ran to him, was struck down by 
Gozbert’s or Hildeward’s sword. 

It was a fierce battle, and the Huns filled the air with 
howls and shrieks as they took to flight, leaving in the streets 
hundreds of their dead or wounded comrades. 

Many of the brave knights and soldiers of King Otto 
had been slain by the enemy’s arrows and spears, but among 
the spared were Gozbert and Hildeward. 

“What has happened to-day in the city of Augsburg,” 
said the bishop to his soldiers, “is only a beginning; far 
fiercer and bloodier battles are yet to be fought; for the 
Huns will come with their whole horde, knowing how im- 
portant to them is the possession of our city, where there is 
so much to tempt their greed ; and they will also take revenge 
for their fallen leaders. But we have certain knowledge that 
King Otto is coming at quick march with a great army. 
May God grant us the victory !” 

There was much activity in the city of Augsburg. In- 
numerable hands were busy repairing the walls where they 
were weak, or where a breach had been effected by the Huns. 
Great quantities of stone were broken to be thrown by hand 
or in slings, and great quantities of chalk were pulverized, 
to be thrown into the eyes of the enemy and thus to prevent 
them from taking aim. 

The whole night they were preparing weapons and re- 
pairing those that were damaged, the bishop and his assistants 
helping where needed. Nuns went through the streets, sing- 
ing pleading hymns, and repeating prayers to heaven for 
Augsburg in this dark hour. Thus the night passed. 

At the first dawn of day the bishop held a service that 


— 125 — 


strengthened the sad hearts with the words of the Psalmist: 
“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 
I will fear no evil ; for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy 
staff, they comfort me.” 

Scarcely was the service finished when the Hungarians 
came like a great overspreading cloud, filling the air with 
their wild cries and shouts as they rushed against the walls 
of the city with picks, crowbars, and other heavy iron tools. 

But upon the walls were the men of Augsburg, and the 
Huns saw with alarm that they were as ready to fight as they 
were the previous day, and when they were struck down by 
arrows and stones, some of them fled, and refused to return 
even under the lash. 

The people rejoiced with the bishop when the army led 
by King Otto came in sight, for they saw that the deliverance 
of Augsburg was assured, which had appeared hopeless to 
them but a moment before. 

King Otto had not a large army when he set out for 
Augsburg, but it was greatly increased by the Bavarians. 
Their former leader, however, Duke Henry, was not with 
them, being ill at his castle at Regensburg, where he died 
a few weeks later. 

The Franconians, under the leadership of Duke Conrad, 
hurried to the help of King Otto, also the Swabians and 
Bohemians, and when he looked upon the great number of 
Hungarians, he said, “Were not God on our side, we could 
not win this battle.” 

He and his army encamped on the left side of the river 
Lech, near Augsburg, and awaited an attack. 

I There Gozbert and Ruppert, twin brothers, met for the 
first time in many years, and it was a joyful, but serene 
surprise to the two gray-haired men. They clasped hands, 
and looked into each other’s faces with the renewed affection 
of boyhood, after having been separated not only by time and 
distance, but because of their allegiance to different masters 
who were enemies. King Otto and Duke Henry of Bavaria. 
Now they were reunited in genuine brotherly love and 
friendship. 


— 126 — 


The four cousins also clasped hands in a common cause, 
Hengist and Keringer, Hildeward and Wido, all there to 
fight against the Huns and to protect Augsburg; and King 
Otto thanked God for these faithful friends. 

Duke Conrad of Lorraine with his stately company of 
trained soldiers from beyond the Rhine hoped in this battle 
to atone to his father-in-law for the false step he had taken 
against him, and to prove that he was willing to shed his 
blood, if need be, in his cause. 

King Otto had intended to wait for an attack from the 
enemy, but after the arrival of Duke Conrad and his troops 
it was decided to attack them the next day, August 10, 955. 
On the 9th he and his whole army consecrated themselves 
for battle by partaking of Holy Communion and praying to 
God for victory over the invaders of the fatherland, calling 
to memory the divine promise : “Call upon Me in the day of 
trouble. 1 will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.” 

On the 10th the whole army of the Germans were on their 
feet, and again there was prayer to God for help, and upon 
his knees, with tears in his eyes. King Otto vowed that, if 
God gave him victory, he would found on episcopal see at 
Merseburg, a vow that was faithfully kept. 

Deep enthusiasm prevailed among the soldiers. The 
orders of the leaders were obeyed most punctiliously and 
faithfully. They were thrilled with the one desire to win 
the battle and drive the barbarians for all time from Ger- 
man soil. 

Special care was exercised in the inspection of weapons 
and shields, saddles and bridles, and the hoofs of the horses, 
that there might be no cause of failure in any one point. 

Early on the morning of the 10th drums and trumpets 
sounded, and King Otto’s troops marched from the camp, the 
dags waving in the breeze, and the rich trappings on his 
horse and those of knights and other noblemen gleaming 
in the beams of the sun. 

Between the river Lech and the city of Augsburg, far 
up the shore, was a level plain for at least five miles, un- 


127 — 


fruitful, save for grass and weeds, a stony soil. This plain 
was called Lechfield. 

The king portioned off his army in eight parts. The 
first three parts were Bavarians; the fourth part was 
a company of Franks, led by Duke Conrad of Lorraine (or 
Lothringia) ; the fifth was led by King Otto, these being 
select young men, the flower of the army, who bore the banner 
of St. Michael ; among them were Hildeward, Hengist, 
Keringer, and Wido. The king granted the request to allow 
Ruppert and Gozbert to be with them, their giant forms 
a head taller than the tallest, and of such weight that the 
largest and strongest horses were selected for them. The sixth 
and seventh lines were Swabians, and the eighth, the rear 
guard, were Bohemians. 

The battle that day was beyond comparison. Some of 
the enemy were put to flight, but the decisive battle with the 
main army of the Hungarians was yet to be fought; if the 
Germans did not win it, all was lost. King Otto, therefore, 
called a halt and spoke to his men. 

“You see,” he said, “that we now must use our utmost 
strength to conquer. Kot far from us, indeed, before our 
very eyes, stands the main strength of the enemy. But I do 
not fear them; should we in our own land turn our backs 
to the enemy? I know that they outnumber us by far, but 
they do not excel us in bravery and weapons ; many of them 
do not how how to use their weapons, and many are without 
weapons of any kind. More than all, we have God on our 
side; He is our Shield and Weapon. The enemy use their 
weapons in wild fury, which brings no result; our weapons 
are used in calm faith and trust in the power and help 
of God. 

“Truly, we should hide our heads in shame to allow 
Europe to see the people who conquered us, and took our 
kingdom out of our hands. It would be far better for us to 
die an honorable death upon this battle-field than to be 
slaves under the yoke of these wild barbarians.” 

As the king finished his address in his calm, clear voice, 
he again took up his lance and assumed his position as leader ; 


— 128 — 


and his soldiers proved by the fierceness of their fighting- 
that his words had not been in vain. The Hungarians were 
also alert, for his words to his soldiers had another result. 
They recognized him as the king, and with wild cries pressed 
in his direction from all sides, and Bulzu, their “Prince of 
Princes,” offered a large reward to any soldier who would 
put into his hands, dead or alive, the German king. 

The care of the four cousins as well as that of Gozbert 
and Puppert was redoubled over him, for he was in the 
greatest danger. Bright swords and lances flashed in the sun- 
light as they made their horses rear and prance about him. 
From all sides the Hungarians aimed for him; like hail- 
stones came their arrows against his helmet and his coat of 
mail. But the king was spared, while the Huns who attacked 
him were reaped down like blades of grass before the scythe. 

The danger to King Otto arose to the highest point when 
Bulzu, with high-swung curved saber, made an effort to reach 
him. But Gozbert and Buppert with their clubs knocked the 
crowd to the ground from whence they never arose, and 
Kuppert dragged Bulzu from the saddle and made him his 
prisoner, and kept him in his iron grasp, while Gozbert used 
his club with deadly effect upon those coming to the assistance 
of their leader. Kuppert turned a moment from his prisoner, 
and in a flash Bulzu thrust a dagger through a fissure in his 
chain-coat, and Kuppert fell, mortally wounded, while Bulzu 
sprang upon his horse. But Gozbert was too quick for him ; 
he dragged him from his horse, and he was again a prisoner. 
All this happened in a few moments of time. 

Gozbert and Wido knelt beside the dying Kuppert. 

“Protect the king,” Kuppert said feebly. “Help him to 
win the battle; and Wido, I have something to tell you and 
to you alone. Go, Gozbert and help protect the king!” 

A battle such as was fought that day had never before 
been seen on German soil. The ground was covered with 
the dead of the Hungarians, and the waters of the Lech 
were red with their blood. 

No quarter was given the enemy, and they must lay down 
their swords, lances, battle-axes, bows, arrows, and knives. 


— 129 — 


Thousands of Hungarians plunged into the river, thinking 
they could swim to the other side and escape; but the bank 
was so steep that they could not climb it in their exhausted 
condition, and they fell back into, the river and rose no more. 

The camp of the Hungarians fell into the hands of the 
Germans, and the prisoners were set free. 

In the evening the victors met in Augsburg to estimate 
the heavy loss of life the German army had sustained. Many 
noblemen were among the brave men who had fallen, among 
them Diethold, brother of Bishop Adalrich, and Duke Conrad 
of Lorraine; and many faithful personal friends in humbler 
positions, among them Steward Buppert, who had saved the 
king’s life from the curved saber of the prince of the Huns. 

Duke Conrad had lost his life on the field. While raising 
his helmet, an arrow from the enemy pierced his throat, and 
he fell from his horse, mortally wounded. His great longing 
had been to atone for his rebellion against the king, and his 
wish was fulfilled, for it was through him that the great 
victory had been obtained. 

It was a great victory, but the king’s heart was heavy. 
‘‘He gave me much sorrow,” he said mournfully, speaking 
of Duke Conrad, “but he has done all in his power to atone 
for it. A man of nobler character never lived, and his loss 
will be a sad remembrance all my days.” 

In all the churches of the kingdom services were held 
in which the Lord was praised for having given the father- 
land this victory. 


CHAPTEE XYII. 

After Many Days. 

While the Hungarians were in wild fiight and the Ger- 
mans rejoiced over the great victory, Wido was kneeling 
beside Euppert, whose life was ebbing away; and tears of 
sorrow for the one who so loved him, and whom he so loved, 
could not be stayed; for he saw that the wounded man, 
though regaining consciousness, could not live. 

King Otto’s Crown. 


9 


130 — 


^^Tell me of the battle, Wido,” Euppert said feebly. “Did 
the king win?” 

“Yes, father; it is a glorious victory. All the Hungarians 
have fled except the wounded and the dead, and they are 
many.” 

“Thank the Almighty for this! Now listen, Wido, to 
something I will tell you, for I have but little time to live. 
For many years we lived in Hungary, and my dear wife and 
I and our little boy of two years lived happily in our cabin. 
Then, as now, there were attacks made upon German lands, 
and we returned with much booty. Just before we set out 
upon one of these invasions, a terrible trouble came to us. 
Our little Wido died after a short illness, and my wife was 
almost beside herself with grief.” 

“Had I a brother of the same name as myself?” asked 
Wido in astonishment. 

“Do not interrupt me,” pleaded Euppert. “I have but 
little time to live, and have much to say that lies heavy 
upon my heart. 

“I was compelled to leave my wife in the loneliness of 
our cabin and grieving for our boy. On our return to 
Hungary I shortened my walk to the cabin by a cross-way 
leading through the forest, and while passing along, my 
mind filled with the thought of the loneliness in our home 
without our boy, I heard the cry of a child. I hurried to 
the thicket from where the sound came, and found a little 
boy of about the age of our Wido, and clad in the dress worn 
by German children. I tried to comfort him, but he could 
only say, ‘Father, mother, poor Arnulf!’” 

“Arnulf!” exclaimed Wido, “that was the name of the 
little brother of Hengist and Keringer who was stolen by 
the Hungarians when the robbers burned the castle of 
Gerhard von Stein.” 

“Yes, but do not interrupt me; my time is short. The 
wounded soldier beside him had only strength to tell me 
that I could do nothing for him, but begged me to take the 
child to his wife, who loved children and was childless, and 
he had taken it as a prisoner from a castle named Eberstein, 


— 131 — 


which they had robbed and burned. His home was three 
miles out of the way, but I made the promise and kept it, 
and when he had ceased to breathe, I covered him with dry 
twigs and leaves, and kept on my way to his cabin. 

“His wife was deeply distressed to hear of her husband^s 
death, but refused to take the child, as she was not able to 
support it now that she was alone in the world, and so I took 
little Arnulf to my home, and the love we had for our Wido 
we now showed him, and also gave him our own boy^s name.’^ 

“Has it come to your mind that Gerhard von Stein is my 
father and Hengist and Keringer my brothers?” asked Wido 
in a trembling voice. 

“Yes, and there is not the least doubt about it.” 

“How wonderful, how wonderful!” ejaculated the young 
man in a tone of awe. 

“Yes, it is one of the things in which we see that God 
has been our guide that I, as steward of Beleke Castle, lay 
wounded and near death by the brook, and that Hengist and 
Keringer took me up, placed me upon a horse, and took me 
to Hartrun Castle. There I lay for weeks, out of my mind 
from fever, and there Gerhard von Stein and his sons waited 
upon me as if I were the most faithful of friends instead 
of a known enemy. 

“It was because of my love for you, and for no other 
reason, that I kept the knowledge to myself that you are a son 
of Gerhard von Stein. Once at Hartrun, when recovering 
from my sickness, I was on the point of telling him the 
secret; but the thought came to me that I could not endure 
living without you; that I must live alone, while Gerhard 
von Stein would be blessed with three noble sons to cheer 
his old age. But to a monk in whom I have every confidence 
I have given a parchment upon which is the whole story, and 
which will be given you after my death. If you and your 
father think I have done wrong by keeping it a secret, re- 
member that it was my love for you that prompted it.” 

“Dear father,” said Wido, “there is no one upon earth 
to whom I owe more than to you; next to God you have 
been my benefactor, and it is to you and to my dear foster- 


— 132 — 


mother that I owe my life. I would have died in the forest, 
had you not found me, and cared for me as your own son 
ever since.” 

“Your words cheer my heart,” said Euppert feebly; “they 
relieve it of a burden which has oppressed it; and I hope 
your father and brothers will forgive me for keeping you 
from them so long.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of hoofs, 
and to Widows joy they were his foster-uncle Gozbert, Hilde- 
Avard, Hengist, and Keringer. His heart thrilled at the 
surprise it would be to them to know that he was a brother 
'to two of them instead of a cousin. 

Euppert revived sufficiently to tell them the story. They 
had never suspected it, but heard it with delight that one 
so loved was their own dear elder brother. 

“Bless you, bless you all!” whispered Euppert feebly. 
“O Gozbert, the same loving Father has given our king and 
fatherland victory over their enemies; praise be to His 
holy name !” 

Silently and with tear-dimmed eyes the little company 
gathered about the dying soldier. His life soon ebbed away, 
and that evening the body of the faithful servant of his God, 
his king, and his fatherland was laid to rest in the fragrant 
forest. 

This duty done, they kept on their way to Eegensburg 
to tell the king all that had transpired since ' he left the 
battle-field for Duke Henryks castle. 

Eegensburg was celebrating the glorious victory over the 
Huns, and King Otto rejoiced with them; yet his heart 
was heavy because of the dangerous illness of his brother, 
Duke Henry. 

He was grieved to hear of the death of Euppert, though 
knowing before leaving the battle-field that he could not 
live. He was surprised and pleased to hear that Wido was 
now Arnulf, the lost son of Gerhard von Stein. 

On November 1st, but a few weeks after the battle of 
Augsburg, Duke Henry of Bavaria was called from earth and 
was buried from the Church of Our Lady in Eegensburg. 


— 133 — 


He had always been the favorite son of his mother. Queen 
Matilda, and from the depths of her stricken heart she uttered 
the prayer : “O God, have mercy upon the soul of Thy servant 
who has been called by Thee from this life. Consider the 
few pleasures he has had upon earth, and how many of his 
days have been filled with trouble and grief.” 

The time had now come for the young men to return to 
Hartrun, and King Otto gave them a word of advice at 
parting. 

“It is well for you,” he said, “to return to your father. 
He is growing old, and will rejoice to receive the son whom 
he had given up for lost. You are all worthy sons of a worthy 
father. Keturn to Hartrun, and cultivate the land diligently 
as an example to the young men of Saxony. I will add more 
land to that estate, which is already of many acres, and there 
will be plenty of employment for you three' brothers. 

“No; you do not owe me any thanks,” he said, as they 
tried to give voice to their gratitude; “for it is impossible 
for me to repay you for what you have done for me and 
mine.” 

“Before we go, I will ask your Majesty about Prince 
Ludolph,” said Hildeward. “My heart is warm toward the 
one who was my beloved superior, and for whom I have the 
love of a humble friend.” 

“Ludolph did not battle with us against the Hungarians, 
for the reason that he has gone to battle against the Wends, 
and I wish one of you faithful and companionable von Steins 
were with him. Hildeward, perhaps you will be willing 
to go?” 

“I shall be glad, indeed, to go,” exclaimed Hildeward in 
delight, “and I am sure that Uncle Gozbert will go with us 
beyond the Elbe to fight the Wends. On our way we can 
stop for a short visit at the monastery to see Abbot Martin.” 

“I heartily agree to this,” said the king. “Abbot Martin 
did me and mine a great service, which I can never repay.’* 

With the kind farewell of the king they left Eegensburg 
to go their separate ways, hoping to meet again. 

It was impossible to describe the surprise and delight with 


134 — 


which Gerhard von Stein welcomed his eldest son, his Arnulf, 
and he gave thanks to God, who had so blessed him. 

In the mean time Gozbert and Hildeward had reached 
the monastery, and there was much of interest to be spoken 
of since they had parted, and there was great rejoicing over 
the victory. 

Leaving the monastery, they kept on their way to aid 
Prince Ludolph, who was doing his best to conquer the 
Wends, and thus atone for his rebellion against his father. 

In the mean time King Otto had in his mind a com- 
mission for his son, which, he was sure, would be gladly 
accepted, and in June, 956, when Ludolph returned, having' 
completely conquered the Wends, he told him of it. 

“You remember, Ludolph,” he said, “that at the meeting 
of our parliament in August, 951, at Augsburg, Berengarius 
and his son Adelbert promised to give the vassal oath of 
allegiance to me. This promise he has never fulfilled; for 
as soon as he returned to Italy, he hurried to call together 
the bishops, princes, counts, and other members of the nobility 
among the Italians, and censured them for their lapse of 
fealty to them. 

“He would not have dared to do this, had I not been too 
much engaged here in those wars for the protection of our 
kingdom to demand by force of arms the keeping of his 
promise. 

“But since then times have changed. Thank God, I am 
now in a position to show to Berengarius and his son that 
the sovereignty of Italy is not in their hands, but in mine. 
I have decided to send a strong army to bring the disobedient, 
covenant-breaking people to account ; and I will place you at 
the head of the army as commander-in-chief.” 

“O my good, kind father!” cried Ludolph in delighted 
surprise. “How noble it is in you to entrust me with such 
a commission; I feel now that I have atoned for my shame- 
ful rebellion against you.” 

“It is truly no binding agreement, my son, but I will so 
consider it, and if you bring this commission to a perfect 
ending, I will make you king of Italy as a recompense for 


— 135 — ^ 

the loss of the Duchy of Swabia. I am sure,” he added, with 
a smile, “that King of Italy sounds better than Duke of 
Swabia.” 

“Dear father, how can I ever be grateful enough to you! 
I shall again have place among my friends ; for all who were 
loyal to you have deserted me, which is just what I deserve. 
But this will prove that you trust me, and I can again hold 
up my head among them; for the one whom the king honors 
will be honored among men.” 

These were the happy words that passed his lips, and his 
father was glad to see the change in his son’s sad face and 
manner. He also knew that the change from his aimless 
existence to one of interested activity was a necessity to one 
of his temperament. 

“Now,” he said, “lose no time in calling your troops to- 
gether. You must cross the Alps while it is summer. May 
the Almighty guide you and be your shelter and protection.” 

New life was now pulsating in Ludolph’s sad heart. His 
friends flocked to his standard, loyal to him now that he was 
at peace with the king. In the early part of July he and his 
troops had crossed the Alps and went to Verona, and from 
there to Pavia. 

Hildeward was his chosen companion, and rode by his side 
throughout the long journey, and they never wearied of each 
other’s company. 

Berengarius was not ignorant of this new danger to his 
position as king. In great haste he and Adelbert collected an 
army and led it against Ludolph, who, upon reaching Italian 
soil, was joined by a good number of the enemies of Beren- 
garius, so that his army was greatly increased. 

The battle was on. Ludolph was victorious, and Pavia 
was in his hands. But this did not discourage Adelbert and 
his father. In the second battle Adelbert led his troops, but 
again Ludolph was successful, and Berengarius and his son 
were compelled to flee to a place of safety. The whole king- 
dom of Italy rejoiced at this turn of events. 

Master of the situation, Ludolph acted with mildness and 


— 136 — 


discretion and with friendliness toward all. Even his enemies 
admired him, while he was loved by his own soldiers. 

Ludolph would have been happy, could he have reached the 
aim his father had planned for him; but it was not the will 
of the Almighty that he should be king of Italy. On the 3d of 
September, 957, he went with his dear friend Hildeward to 
Pombia, a place in the province of Novara near Lake Mag- 
giore. He contracted a fever, and often he lay unconscious 
for hours. 

Hildeward was his constant attendant, being with him 
night and day. He greatly feared that he whom he loved so 
dearly would never again see his dear father and his home. 
Ludolph blamed himself for having given his father trouble, 
and Hildeward did all he could to comfort him, assuring him 
that he had been fully forgiven. 

“My dear father forgave me when I transgressed so ter- 
ribly against him,” said the young prince feebly, “and I be- 
lieve that my heavenly Father will forgive me, — and I shall 
see — my — Savior.” Lisping feebly a few more words of 
reliance upon his Lord, he passed away, a smile of content 
resting upon his pale lips. 

Prince Ludolph had won the love of the people, and there 
was great lamentation throughout the country when it became 
known that he would never be their king. 

His German soldiers, knowing of his love for the father- 
land, resolved that he should rest there instead of in foreign 
soil ; and a detachment of strong men, for love of him, united 
to carry him across the Alps to his home in Saxony. 

They chose the shortest route, but it was also the steepest ; 
it was a long and difficult journey. No one, however, con- 
sidered it to be anything but a sad and loving duty which 
they felt honored to perform for one they had loved so much. 
They took turns in resting on the way, Hildeward doing his 
share in helping. At length they reached Germany, and 
passed on to Mayence, where the burial was to take place. 
Never was a prince more sincerely mourned. 

Through Hildeward the king heard of his son’s last days 


— 137 — 


in Italy and of his peaceful passing away, which was of 
unspeakable comfort to the mourning father. 

“I can never repay you,” he said one day after he had 
recovered his composure in some measure, “but I will do 
what I think will be of the most lasting benefit and happiness 
to you, and to your uncle Gozbert, who has been so faithful 
to me and my cause. 

“I know that in your veins is the blood of the forester 
and the hunter, and the gift of land in field and forest is 
wdiat would suit you best. 

“Not far from Polde, at the foot of the Harz Mountains, 
is a tract of land of five hundred acres; I wish to give this 
to you. It is now unfruitful, because uncultivated, but your 
diligent and intelligent care of it will make it a garden-spot. 
A large forest belongs to it, in which is an abundance of 
nuts and wild fruits, and plenty of game. Between the fields 
and forest there is a hunting-lodge, roomy, and furnished 
wdth all things needed for use and comfort, as well as for 
hunting; and the lodge and all it contains goes to you with 
the land and the forest. This property is for you and your 
heirs for all time. I have but one condition to make, and 
that is, that your uncle Gozbert share your home for life; 
together you will have the comforts of a happy home.” 

“It is too much, too much for what I have done,” said 
Hildeward with tears of gratitude. 

“No, I feel that I can never repay you for what you have 
done for me and mine. My beloved Ludolph, now safely at 
home in his Father’^ house, you once delivered from certain 
death in the forest, and the service you rendered Queen Adel- 
heid in helping her escape from prison and danger can never 
be fully estimated. May God reward you, for I never can. 

“To your uncle Gozbert I owe much for his faithful 
service. He well deserves a home in his old age as a gift; 
and with no one would he be as happy as with you.” 

Hildeward^s sincere gratitude was freely expressed as 
King Otto put the parchment into his hand which secured 
the new home to him. 

GozberFs heart was filled with sweet content on hearing 


— 138 — 


that he was to share the home with his beloved Hildeward, 
a home such as he had never dreamed of getting. 

Before they took possession, Hildeward went to visit his 
sister Hedwig, who, with Queen Adelheid, was at the castle 
at Quedlinburg. It was a happy meeting. 

In the autumn of 961, King Otto, accompanied by Queen 
Adelheid and a number of the members of the German 
nobility, journeyed to Koine, called there by Pope John XII, 
to protect him against Berengarius. 

Otto rescued the pope from his danger, and was rewarded 
by the pope with the long-wished-for honor — the imperial 
crown of the Caesars. While in Kome, he was crowned. 

The coronation was a splendid festival. 

The king left his castle on Mont Mario on a spirited white 
horse, and surrounded by bishops, cardinals, and members 
of the German and Italian nobility, all in splendid array, 
and their horses richly caparisoned, made a beautiful sight 
as they passed through the streets of Kome to St. Peter^s 
Church. 

The pope awaited them there, and with much cere- 
mony King Otto and Queen Adelheid were crowned Feb- 
ruary 2, 962. 

Four years later he again visited Kome, taking with him 
the queen and their young son Otto, six years of age, who was 
anointed and crowned by the pope, receiving the title of 
Otto II. This was done that the claim of the royal House 
of Saxony to the throne might have the sanction of the 
Church. 

The last Imperial Diet of King Otto was held in Qued- 
linburg, Saxony, in June, 973, and was a brilliant gathering. 

In the same year he visited Merseburg and Memleben, 
where his father Henry had passed away, and there King- 
Otto’s brilliant and eventful life was ended. He was buried 
at Merseburg. 

He had reached the age of sixty-one. Thirty-seven years 
he had been ruler of Germany, and twelve years of the 
thirty-seven he had also been ruler of the Holy Koman 
Empire. 


— 139 — 


His reign was considered the golden age of Germany, his 
title being Otto the Great. 

His beloved and pious queen Adelheid departed this life 
in 999, in a cloister which she had founded in Alsace, and 
there she rests in a tomb. 

Hedwig von Stein, her beloved lady-in-waiting, was with 
her to the last. After her death she went to Polde, at 
the foot of the Harz Mountains, where she shared her 
brother's home. After many years and many experiences 
this brother and sister were again under one roof as in 
their childhood, in their cottage on the river in Burgundy. 

With Hildeward and his wife and children she was con- 
tented and happy, as they were to have her with them. 

Uncle Gozbert had passed away years before, and was 
laid to rest in the beautiful forest he loved in life. 

The quelling of the Hungarians by King Otto the Great 
was not only a blessing to the Germans, but was a turning- 
point in the history of the Hungarians. 

They gradually gave up their wild, fierce, warlike, and 
wandering life, and having the peaceful, industrious, and 
home-loving Germans as an example, they settled in fixed 
homes, and became amenable to the laws and rules of 
Christian living. 



F 




- ■■'• S'm-^ .'■: ‘-. 

.' , 7;.“^ ■, • ' 

;■* T V /■ ^ ' ty , ;. ^ -ll, , ‘ V . 'y.;:: ^ 

11/ ^ -; • h • *> , N--- ;t.' • .• '•' 


'Sr' 


11 


. i - 4 ii 

/, 7 -' 


. r. 




p. 


'■ irr-vis,. w,/!. , ; 






V * J ► ^ • •! . . . •-• — 

. . . *♦ . V .^- 

' ' ■ -^1 ■ 







. '-■>/■. •*:.•. ',. r-'. ^■. 

naf?,'', ■ ' '• ' '■■'i 

^ V , . . 



? ^ 


V\ 


>■' 


r?vv>'tv'v. . • ■ >" '- 

M '< -.v 4 

' 'S '• ^ • 

* T- /■■.«;.•'•:„'• , 

■ ■' ’.'va 


* k 








I*' -. 

.i » - 


3v, ' 


^ 4 


t ^9 \- 


•' 'V' .•>.. .* .'.Mvi ' ''‘th •': 


’■r • I ; ^y.- 
^ ''»w v^. 

V 

sHi' 


> 

-ii 




J. ■•. 


•-. *' 


*. t 

1 * ' ' 


« j 


V • > 

r ^ 





:, 'V' -•‘« • 7;^ - 




•1 

.t '.T 


I •' W , , • fU 

> l(r-^4; V"’ 







- ^ '* V. ‘ '‘^ v. T- *’■ 

, • jl, , I . *« ■’ ^ ^ 


Ww . . y \ . i 

/"-fi . V. S* ' •' 




u- 








y/ 







.’■■ ^■‘9: l}':r\.CJi : ■' ■'X-' -mVV' , r <■ -^ •• ; '■ Vi- ■ . 




^ I 


i, 


\ .' 


’>^,V ”> V’ .. 


i isVv>*>>V 7 v/«. , ■•' 7‘5Vy- iV'*;' 


' *1 -r 




% • 

« 

V 

. Mr,/\ 

' * 1 i 

v' 

• :r . ; 


4 ■'■V‘i ^• 

:. *> ' '‘^ 

f .v^, •• 

• ; • • • 1 , , i ^ 


k'-V ^ > ** 


•< « 




I t 


r. 



>- ■ 


A ^fr* i"> I "■ 

' * j : 












'r-. ^ ' ‘ ■■*-' ■ ' .' ■ ■ 

*■ : '’V T ^ X- . * • j BH 

»WiSw- ■ 'iVv. ,’ . < ' 


■ 


« • •» • 


V . . I , 

. ' • 

■T’’ ‘. •*''^' '• ;,'■. 

^Ai/ .-r -.V -’''' 

►: ■ I 






, I 


1 


.^/i 



<:•■■ 

.■i:: 


‘ « 


il^t 




9:**' 




7: ^ 




■■■^^ 

> 


'» 7' 


k« • 




■> t, 


UJ 


:, -r • 'J^', .... 

.1^' ' ..■ . , 

t i > ■ ,..; y ^ 


-» 


A 


."J /. 


^ ’ ♦ 




|Y * - 

•y ' '. • 


lV 




'4 


K 

" J 


« ^ 

': \ 




i -. 



i m -V ' ‘ »- w •!,> ^Uw*VL»P;#V- \ \. . • !• I 7* ■ . !• '‘/fc.k ^ * ‘'. 


- ».* 


- ■ ' ^ s' 

-»%. ' '■* ' 

rx^ 


- y. :■ 



m i- , xf'n ,::^ <■'■■■"'• xK 


- ' ' I'i 


■ '■ V 


• V 


I , 


hn 


.'f- -' 



■''I *.' 


S«?p- ^V' , , . ■ ^ ^ ' ^ .;.:vvHv^ /' .. * „ o. ■»• -•’ 

■' ' -'A'.' ■ '":'M'f^^;-/- V ' ■'•■"i ' ' .' ' , .-'.• ■ ■; 

■nimlMr r ‘ ■' r ‘ , .t'j - ■; .v, .r ; , ', . ■ ■ , ; 


.V vl'UvS / 


V '. ^ J. 


V. 







'J., ,:,J 


. *' 


, r 


.X * 


K 




f ' \ t 




r $' .• 


V y- ■• ■*^iPti7 '' ■’7;'' '■•7'"'’' \ " ■;''V^'''’1 

'« M.* A 7 ii^* •, ;' ', 1 ^, ‘•^ . *. • 

\' *•’ J '• ^ \ ^ 77'4 '■' ' ' N 




• «. . * ^ . « • 






* 




S 


'•.>•"‘4 ’. ".P I- " i . •-•' 

I 'l • *• .*/Yv ■ 7 ' <■ • • V -W'- - ' .. . V < ^ 

i?;7C 

V ,y:- . 


• M •• 




®3 

I'V ■ 


7 ia ^ 



. /• 


V' 


' ■ rr7 


7 '. 




■ lyym 


-y" 

* mX 

J 


V : 




■ ■ rx - ' 

' ^ ' ^™ 4 >‘ *k* ‘ 4 , 7 i ' # , ’’I If ' ' * • 






*^, « . y :i. 


• I 

c 


■ , i i . < I > ^ 


, > I 


f • 


♦ . 
\ 




• f 

7. 


I t 




' / 
> 


r ' , 

y I 




^>-4 


k/V > .v**-.*'; 


n. . _ 4 i ' i ' / 



*-., < •,» ' • 
» .. i- ■• ». 

• y. ■ ■ •« k» . r 






‘•f* 


« / 
‘ f 


4 t 

r*’ 




.■‘v ‘ 



•s 


■ > : • 


T y 


■w I 5 ^ •L i' . 


f. • , -y \ 


* 

■ . ^ • 




I* 4 •/ j' • ' ‘ ‘ 

‘t y ' '®i 7 ^ * 4 * • ' * 

- K-’- ' V ’'^'V 


^aftv . A 

■;r/lli-.'' •'■'I 





mm 


•» I 


'•!;’'i^!id:’ s« 


!«; 


'I 


« i.. 


J‘ ' I 

V/. '< 




^ ■ , "'>■ ' 


'/ 



.» .• I i I 


-V‘ ^ 




If.’. 



'Mjij'iM j - ^'.J; !>\ 

‘ ^ ft Ti ' ■-^‘ ■- 



'.■' i; ' ,1 

• • ‘ 


-V*!' c - ■' ■ ' 





>''l J 

S' •- ' •*■ 


- ' * , 1 .. I 


t K 


'.4 


*» 

.» ■« 



• . V 

' .1 I 


< 


^ ><!.‘.a y»V > 



"ir 




J '/ 




' n *. 

H 


V 


. V '• } ' 


■ ; 


..?*:« I 

. * ■ i -v. i ■ ? r '■ 


r^f :' '>d: .r 

ft ; 




» I 


'A .■ '■ 


‘1 »i ’,' 




j, .V- ^ ■' ■■ ■■ ■■.•< .,■ 

? .’L' J ' V • ’ ' . I. * J' •. . 


\ , 



\ t‘ ' ' -» 

7 '■■ ' 

• 4 1 

V ' 



t ' 

r 1 


,A 


''If.-. 


' '• * ••'«A 

' '-VV 

>*• ff* 



I -, 


•i ’ 
* 


••v> 


< -k. 


\ 


• • ^ . I . ’ •« * 4 • *" ’ 

V'-; - .\ ,,*,g 


»[J 


I • 


’ ■ ».' t'‘- <. '.iSlili ' ;-'x • .' ^ A ■’i' •■/* >f,’ '. ' A.:; 

, .«, 1 » • ■ ..SSSLl ,., -y, Uv/- ' _ ,• . I . ', Au* A;,- 4 ' 

Ih 'er' f-y-. .; :v ' L;i v t. . ^ 

'rfJuV: Z?k;-'.Lf ^ ’ •. . ^ - .. . 


i ' .V'' ' •. 

■.‘^4 .’ • «' ’ 




. >> 

' • ' * 


t I 


f • 


4 / 


M. '4 ' « I 


• 1 


I f 







